


Soul Keeper

by englishrose2011



Series: Soul Keeper Series [1]
Category: The Sentinel, X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 47,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishrose2011/pseuds/englishrose2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kat and Mandy Taylor are kidnapped it brings them into contact with Gambit.<br/>Little knowing that fate would bring him back into their lives months later when he is rescued from a would be lynch mob, which sets him on a path that will bring him up against the Wolverine. But then even the Wolverine needs a Soul Keeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soul Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The main characters are not mine, this is an amateur effort written purely for the fun of it, and no money has exchanged hands, and it is not intended to breach the copyright: The X Men, Logan, Gambit and all other related characters are the property of Marvel Characters Inc and Marvel Entertainment, and their relative artists and writers and for the Sentinel, Paramount and Pet Fly.
> 
> X men Story, non-cannon. AU  
> This story is part of a arch of stories, in the next story, Brotherhood of the Dark Guide. This story will be crossing with a GDP AU.
> 
> This story is for Gail, Casey and Chrissie.  
> With thanks to Connie for the beta reading, and for Mary for the help with the French.  
> All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Story From Susan Foster Website (now closed down)

**Part One**

In the near future the genetic code of man will begin to change, and soon a new species of man will walk the earth, Homo Superior, gifted, or cursed, with powers beyond those of normal man, they will be hated and feared, and unless determined people take a stand, it could be the end for everyone.  Battle lines had been drawn.  On one side Professor Charles Xavier, vocal spokesman for the integration of mutant and humans sharing a joint destiny.  On the other, Dr Nathaniel Essex, a powerful mutant himself who believed that in the mutant gene, only the strong could be allowed to survive, to create the Homo Superior that would take their place as the elite of the planet, and he was willing to do anything to achieve his dream.

 

Dr. Nathaniel Essex looked at his newly acquired mutant. He believed with a fanatical passion that the gene pool of mutant life should be kept pure, and those mutants that failed to fit his profile should be destroyed, before they could breed and pollute the gene pool. 

 

This latest addition would serve as his enforcer. The Canadian Government had created him as their ultimate weapon, a killing machine that never failed in its mission, Weapon X. 

 

The mutant was secured to the examination table, the restraints were holding, but for how long? The cuffs kept his wrists and hands secured flat to the table to prevent the three, twelve inch adamantium retractable claws that emerged from the back of both hands from being used to help him escape.  The same metal covered his entire skeleton, which, coupled with his mutant healing powers, made the man nearly impossible to kill. The punishment he could take and survive was legend in the Weapon X program. Now all Essex had to do was turn Weapon X into his own private weapon of destruction.

 

Essex was lost in thought when he smelled the cigarette smoke, turning on his heels, he glared at the newcomer.  The tall young man was leaning against the doorjamb, his handsome face showing no emotion, one hand in the pocket of a full-length black duster.  Without reading his mind, he knew that Le Diablo Blanc would be fingering the pack of cards that he always had with him.  In the hands of this particular mutant, a simple plastic playing card could blow up a car, and a pack could take a building down.  Le Diablo Blanc was an Alpha mutant, and more and more Essex was beginning to believe that he might even be that most rare of all mutants, an Omega.  The young man had quite formidable shields to his mind, but nothing that Essex could not batter down, taking what he needed. He sent that message now, and saw the minute shiver run through the lean frame.  He backed it up with a verbal command.

 

“Get out.”

 

The young man tossed the cigarette away and it exploded like a firecracker, and then he left.  Essex made a mental note that he would be punished for that; later Le Diablo Blanc would learn his place.

 

Now Essex was alone with his new prize.  He heard a low, deep-throated growl, looking down into hazel eyes that had changed to yellow, and a feral rage burned from them. “Good morning Wolverine, its time you met your new master.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The two young girls sat in the cell.  They could not see the lab from there, but they could hear the screaming, and somehow that made it worse. Mandy and Katherine had been kidnapped while on a holiday with their uncle and aunt in Chicago.  They had been drugged and brought to god knows where, and all they knew was that somehow they had to escape.  So far the Doctor had kept his hands off them, it was as if he was waiting for something, but they knew that the clock was ticking.

 

On the plus side, the Doctor would not know how powerful telepaths they were, and what they could do when they linked, and that might just be the ace up their sleeve.

 

Hearing footsteps they looked up and saw the man that had lead the gang of Marauders that had kidnapped them.  He was walking slowly, an ever-present cigarette burning in his hand, still wearing the floor length coat.  Come to think of it, they had never seen him without it.

 

Kat linked with her sister, forming a circle of power between them, and then she reached out to grasp his mind, and manipulate him into helping them. But she cried out in pain as he threw her out of his mind, “Merde, petite, y’ can get hurt in dere, keep out of places you’re not invited.”  His smile had a sardonic edge to it, which made Kat take a step back, they had seen what he was capable of doing, and he seemed to be on a hair trigger

 

Kat felt the shock wave of a telepathic strike, it was like a tidal wave rushing towards him, hitting with a physical impact, the man’s body arched, the cigarette dropping from his fingers as he fell to his knees, his hands clawing at his head as he screamed.

 

Too late Mandy realized that they had not severed their attempted link to the Marauder, and the telepathic backlash struck out at them. She grabbed her sister’s arm, and clung onto the bars of the cell to keep them upright.  The link between the three was stronger than before and his emotions washed over them.   His shields had been reduced to rubble, and he was broadcasting a raw sexual attraction.

 

Her face flushed bright red, she shook her head to try and clear it.  With a groan of pain, he managed to drag himself up his feet and stagger out. The heavy door at the end of the hall slammed shut behind him.

 

 

 

 

Leaning on each other, the girls managed to make it to bed. Kat was still out of it, as Mandy tried to break the link between them and the Marauder, but instead it was growing stronger. She grabbed hold of her sister’s hands as through the link she began to see images from him, blurred and indistinct.

 

The other Marauders, Essex’s clones of his first team, men now long dead, were drawn to the younger man, circling him, attracted by the raw sexual heat he was broadcasting. He was outnumbered, but fought as they tried to attack him.  Glowing cards flashed through the blurred fog that surrounded the images.  Cards flashed and people died, then he was brought crashing to the floor, a kick to the stomach sent him flying across the room.  He tried to roll to avoid the follow up kick, but received a glancing blow to the head that left him defenseless. 

 

His attackers closed in to enjoy their prize, only to fall under slashing claws as a creature from hell swept them off the now almost unconscious Marauder.  When the newcomer turned, Kat screamed, and Mandy mentally pulled her sister back from the link, so that she could no longer feel what he was feeling. 

 

But she has seen the vision from hell, his claws covered in blood, dismembered bodies scattered on the floor round their Marauder.  The creature was kneeling down, reaching out, his claws ghosting over the Marauder’s face, then bending he gathered the man into his arms, one clawed hands holding him almost gently in his arm, and his head coming up, growling at another presence that only the creature could see.  The Marauder’s hand pressed against the creature, charging his shirt, blasting the man away from him, the younger man hit the floor hard, and he knew nothing more.

 

 

Sometime later, drained, the girls fell asleep.  Mandy woke first, the link was raw, just outside the bars she saw the Marauder, curled on the floor opposite them.  With almost a physical shock she realized that he must have, on some level, followed the thread that connected them back to their cell.  He was huddled on his side, slowly rocking, his arms wrapped round his waist, hugging his coat round him, his long hair like a veil across his face, and he was still broadcasting his emotions, unable to raise his barriers to protect his mind.  She blushed bright red, uncomfortable with the sexual heat from his emotions and shook her sister awake.

 

 

“Mister,” Mandy tried again, “Mister.”

 

This time his eyes opened, and she found herself looking into the demonic red on black eyes that showed so much pain.  “We can help,” when he looked as if he was going to ignore them she added, “Please Mister.”

 

She reached a hand out and for a long moment it just hung in space, and then, in great pain, he crawled over, she pulled him closer against the bars. Kat was already awake. “Mister, we’re going to try and boost your shield okay?”

 

They took his hands, making their circle, but this time including him.  Mandy would act as the anchor while Kat went in, at that moment it didn’t matter that he was a Marauder, he was hurt, and would be hurt even more if they could not shut the sexual lure off.  Even though he had accepted their help, entering his mind was still dangerous. 

 

The mental shields that had thrown them effortlessly out earlier were blasted apart, and in his mind Kat ducked through the hole in them, moving deeper, her sister acting as her lifeline.

 

Memories flooded through to her mind, some were horrific, so working quickly she began to patch the hole in his shields, gradually feeling the sexual heat fading as it was blocked out.

 

Getting out was going to be harder, so far he had not made an psychic appearance, passively allowing her to help him, but she got a bad feeling about this. All the time she was working she was looking round for him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  She pushed back any idea of trying to leave an implanted thought in his mind to make him let them go, it was too dangerous.  With one final look at the shields, she began to withdraw along the anchor line only to find that the shields were moving, rippling like water, his mind was now coming back, and she was trapped.

.

Mandy swore but hung on to Kat’s essence as she felt the change.

 

Still in his mind Kat felt his presence, no longer dormant, but active; she whirled round to see him stood there, leaning against the shield, dressed exactly as he was in body.  She watched him light a cigarette, and then slowly exhale the smoke.

 

She knew it was not real, but the mental projection of her self still batted the smoke away.

 

 “Why y’ doin dis chile?”   His tone was curious, his accent heavy, she could not place it, and then gave up trying, realizing she was becoming sidetracked.

 

 “Duh, trying to help you, don’t know why, since you’re the one that got us here.

 

“Den why?”

 

“Look mister, you were hurting and broadcasting,” she could feel the embarrassment and he was not going to help her, “sex okay, you were broadcasting sex.”  She shifted uncomfortably, “ didn’t seem right.” 

 

“Mon memories?”

 

“I didn’t see anything,” she saw the look on his face, “Okay, a bit, but nothing I understood,” she shuddered, “whipped cream and chocolate, and that thing,” her hands making a vague shape in the air, “was impossible, it would be impossible right?”

 

A slight smile twisted his lips, “Sure cher, impossible, time to lower de wall.” There was a hint of mischief in his voice.

 

“Er, I wouldn’t, its like being propped up at the moment, if you don’t mind giving me a back door, I would appreciate it.”

 

He gave her smile and pointed behind her.

 

“Thanks mister.”  She approached the door.

 

“Merci cher.  Ne pas renonce l’espoir, y’ nevuh know.” 

 

Kat pulled back from the link and gave her sister’s hand a squeeze, as his eyes fluttered open and they looked into the red on black eyes again, but there was calmness in them now.

 

“Wow,” Mandy muttered, the effect was breathtaking.  Quickly she checked the link, pleased that this time she hadn’t broadcasted her comment to the older man.

 

There was a noise coming from along the hallway, “Gambit get your ass in here.”  It was Fitzroy, the Doctor’s assistant, a sleazy creep.  Shakily the Marauder got to his feet, he was clinging to the bars of the cell.  For a heartbeat his face showed the pain he was in, then he shut it away, pulled himself upright, and walked out, only Mandy and Kat knowing what it cost him.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Dr. Essex didn’t like the crudity of what he had done, but Gambit was a loose cannon, he always had to learn the hard way, and blasting his shields so that he could not control his empathy, or what the ignorant barely literate swamp rat called his ‘Charm’, had been a way of punishing him, until he was needed. 

 

Weapon X was like an feral animal, the Canadians had pointed him at the target, programming him with the information he needed to complete the mission, afterwards his mind would be wiped clear until the next time, each time losing a little more of the man, until only the animal remained.   They had kept Weapon X in a cell, denied any human contact other than that of his sadistic guards, until the next time he was needed. 

 

But to Essex it lacked finesse, Weapon X, code name Wolverine, was the world’s most dangerous killer.  He would be Essex’s enforcer, his own personal assassin, but he needed a keeper, and the journals in front of him had given him the clue that he needed, which had just been verified by Wolverine himself. 

 

Essex smiled to himself.  He had released Wolverine when the Marauders had attacked Gambit, putting the creature in direct conflict with his own men, and it had been educational.

 

He pressed the button to replay the tape, Wolverine had been like a rat in a maze given two exits, one would take him to the surface, if Essex had been disposed to let him escape, and the other would take him to Gambit.  Wolverine halted, his claws sliding in and out with a soft snitk sound, his head coming up, and he inhaled deeply.  Turning, he began to run down the hallway.  A bare foot had sent the door to the mess room flying open, and he had attacked, at the end of which only one other man had been left breathing, that had been Gambit. 

 

It has proved the report, now was the time to step up the experiment, anger replaced the smile as he saw Gambit standing in front of him, he had to make an effort not to show his total disgust at the idea that he had to use the Antiquarians personal whore to achieve his goal.  He snarled, “go and shower. To Weapon X you smell like the Bourbon Street whore you were when I found you.  Once you’re finished get back here and meet your new partner.”

 

The Doctor enjoyed the fear that he felt flood through the tall Marauder, but

he was also puzzled, Gambit’s shields should have been destroyed, but instead he detected they had been re-erected, not strong yet, but back up.  He toyed with crushing them again, but he needed Gambit back in the laboratory, and if he shattered his barriers, the other Marauders would try to jump his bones. 

 

Once Gambit had left, the doctor concentrated on Weapon X, the man’s mind was so fractured that he was unable to read it fully.  Revenge, death and hatred of all that was human burned through him, the man replaced by the feral Wolverine at this moment, the hazel eyes were yellow.  Without the restraints he would have been slicing the doctor open without a second thought. 

 

Essex ran a hand over the metal gloves that kept the three 12-inch adamantium blades from extending from Weapon X’s hands, the same metal that wrapped every bone in the Canadian’s body, making his skeleton unbreakable, a formidable weapon indeed and one that Essex was determined to control.

 

Finally leaving his prize, Essex returned to the report by Dr. Blair Sandburg of Rainier University, Cascade, Washington.   The Doctor had uncovered a new type of Sentinel, the only mutant one long accepted by the human population, a people that saw the enhanced sensed Guardians as the only defense against the rabid mutants that threatened their lives.  But Sandburg has set academia on its head when he had discovered the Sentinel Primal, the Dark Sentinel, who had shared so many traits with Wolverine that he had seen Sandburg’s work as a way of controlling the feral beast

 

Key to his plan was the Cajun Marauder Gambit, a strong empath, a level 10, he was going to be perfect, the trigger for the ultimate weapon.  Once bonded or joined their minds would merge, and Gambit would support Wolverine’s fractured mind, filled with so many lies and half-truths programmed into it, that even memories were nothing more than a snapshot of untruths.  The only truth the feral wolverine would accept would be that Gambit was his partner, and where the Cajun led Wolverine would follow. Gambit would give Wolverine the stability he needed for the man to return to dominance over the feral beast.

 

Gambit would be the keeper of the animal, and only when ordered would he allow the feral animal to come forward, it would prevent the berserker fury that had seen Wolverine kill 20 guards when he escaped the Weapon X compound, and happened every time the animal lost control to berserker rage. 

 

Now was the time to re-introduce them, and bring the experiment to its logical conclusion.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Mandy was thoughtful, “you know it would be a lot easier if he spoke English,” she paused and looked at her sister “do you have any idea what he said?”

 

“Don’t give up hope,” Kat shrugged, “at least I think that’s what he said.  I hope that’s what he said,” she added with feeling.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Gambit tugged the black body armor from the bag by the side of his bed, and for a moment just looked at it fingering the dark red stripes at the top of the sleeves. They were the mark of a Guild that would never accept him, and had a contract out on him, his very existence was an insult to them.

 

The Cajun Marauder pulled his armor on. He knew what they had planned for him and Wolverine, Earth Quake had made sure of that, for some reason the man liked him, and had even watched his back during their missions together.  He had been about to flee when he remembered the girls, he could not leave them now.

 

0-0-0-0

 

 

The explosion threw the girls from the beds.  As they got up the hall was flooding with smoke and through the murky light they saw the tall Marauder.

 

“Stand back chile,” the warning was given just before he pushed a glowing card into the side of the lock and an explosion blew the door open.

 

He grabbed Mandy and pulled her out, as she dragged Kat with her. “We’re out of here.”

 

“What the hell,” Kat muttered, what did they have to lose, they rushed through the maze of hallways, twice Marauders got in the way, but went down in a flurry of cards.

 

“Gambit,” the name was roared, striding towards them was Dr. Essex.

 

The Cajun pushed the girls behind him, “get out of here.”  They only got half way down the hallway when they turned back, the Cajun was charging and throwing playing cards, which exploded with the force of hand grenades but seemed to have no effect, Dr. Essex would stagger back, but keep coming.  Mandy threw her sister to the floor as she saw him discharge a full deck at exactly the same time that Essex discharged a ball of energy.  The two collided in mid air, the floor jumped up and then everything began to collapse, a hole opened up and the Cajun disappeared down it. 

 

“Shit,” Kat screamed.  Coughing, fighting for breath, visibility nearly zero in the dust clogged air, they crawled back, the man had helped them and they could not leave him. The red emergency light flickered and then went off for one heart stopping moment, and then it came back again.  At the edge of the hole they looked down, all they could see was flames, but the link was still there, he was alive. 

 

“Gambit,” Kat yelled his name. Then she saw movement a little further down, the floor had collapsed and crashed down through two of the lower floors, The Marauder was laid unmoving on a narrow ledge, and time was running out.

 

Carefully, Mandy balanced her sisters powers, as they struck down into his mind, his body arched under the pain, getting ready they struck again, his head arched back and he screamed, as the telepathic strike cut through his mind, and his eyes flashed open.

 

“Up here Mister.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Weapon X looked down from his vantage point, as he saw the two young females and the other older male emerge from the billowing smoke, across the river from where he had emerged.  The male was leaning heavily onto them; both the females had and arm round him, supporting him as he choked on the smoke. Blood coated the side of his face from a head wound, and blood oozed from his mouth and nose.

 

A snarl rumbled from the throat of Weapon X as he watched his soul keeper heading away from him, but the river blocked him, and the sound of sirens cut through the air, others were arriving now to prevent him stalking the man and reclaiming what was his.  But he would find him one day soon, and then no one would part them.

 

**Part Two**

Ten months later

 

Charles Xavier had located a new Alpha Class mutant in the city of North Lynn, just north of Westchester.  The city was a flash bed of violence with a strong anti-mutant league that had wormed its way into the structure of the City’s administration.  With his X-Men on a mission he needed a contact and pick up to be made quickly, this could not wait.

 

Alpha mutants were not as common as the newspapers would have the human population believe, most mutants just having low grade powers, if that.  Usually it was just a physical change in them, green skin, blue feathers instead of hair, gills. But in an Alpha Class they have powers that could be lethal, and they needed to be collected before they hurt themselves or the population.  If he failed there were other people, less scrupulous, who would recruit them. His dream, his passion, was for humans and mutants to live together as one, and along the way Xavier had recruited helpers, human and mutant; friends willing to put their lives on the line for the greater good.  And tonight he was going to need one particular friend.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Paul Taylor picked up the phone. 

 

At 52, Taylor was a Police Detective for the North Lynn PD, and had helped Xavier in the past.  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, “Hello Charles,” there was a pause, “How can we help? Another Alpha?  Any idea what his or her powers are?”  He felt his wife’s hand on his arm and mouthed Charles name, she nodded. “Okay, we’ll start looking.  Can you give me a fix on their location, right... give me thirty.”   Paul put the phone down and smiled, his wife was already out of bed and getting their warmer winter clothes out.

 

“How did we get into this Ruth?” 

 

His wife picked up her thermal boots, “remember it started with a phone call about a man called Logan.  Nice young man, short, dark and feral.  Now if I was only twenty years younger,” she teased.

 

Paul could not help but laugh, “then I would have to fight him for you dear, you know, I think I could win.”

 

He didn’t take offence when his wife laughed.

 

He snatched the jumper out of the air as it arched towards his face.  Ruth was already out of the door heading downstairs, pleased that both their daughters were currently at their friend’s house.

 

As Ruth stepped out of the house, she pulled her woolen hat on and waited while her husband backed the car out of the garage.  It had been snowing for the last week, and the street had that sterile unearthly look to it.  She shivered in the cold, hating the idea that some child out there was running for their life.

 

They had it down to a practiced art form; Paul would drive while she talked to Charles on the cell phone, relaying the instructions on the location of the new mutant. 

 

Paul had the police radio on low enough for him to monitor the traffic.  There had been a big explosion in the West End where the main banking and jewelry shops were situated, and the alarm calls were coming in thick and fast. 

 

From the radio traffic the perps had been identified as the Marauders, a renegade mutant group, and one of them had blown half of an empty building down.  That amount of power was frightening, Paul gave his wife a worried look, as it seemed that Charles was steering them straight into the war zone.

 

He pulled the car over and turned the sound up on the radio.  The Marauders had been flushed from the area, and the Mayor’s ‘Special’s’ had been brought in.  Paul’s mouth went into a harsh line, like most police officers the Specials brought a nasty taste to his mouth.  They were nothing more than paid bullyboys who enjoyed smashing heads, god pity any mutant that got in their way.  But the Specials were a political move by a Mayor up for re-election who knew that for humans scared of mutants, they gave the illusion of security.

 

Ruth handed the cell phone across, “I know Charles, but if your mutants in the middle of that, it’s going to be hard to get them out.”  He thrust the cell phone back, “they’re on the move.”  He put the car into gear and pulled off, fighting the slight sideways motion as they hit the iced road.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Following instructions they slowly began to track the mutant, his mind, Charles had said several times, was shielded, he or she was like a will of the wisp, hard for the Professor to pin down, even with his telepathic powers.

 

The figure came out of the side alleyway, Paul only had time to hit his brakes and pray as the car began to slide across the road.  The figure vaulted onto the hood of the car, their booted feet thudding into the window screen, than over the roof and off the boot, they landed, lost their feet on the ice, went down hard, but rolled and came back up and running. 

 

“What the hell,” was all that Paul got out, Ruth swung round in her seat, catching a glimpse of the man; she was pretty sure it was a man, with a long, floor length black duster, boots and flying hair.

 

She turned back to the cell phone.  “Don’t yell Charles, we see him, fast on his feet.”

 

A group of the Special came round from the direction he had come.  One hammered on the side window, making her pull back, the hatred on their faces and the need to spill blood was scary.  He backed off when he saw her husband’s police shield. 

 

“Sorry Sir, did you see the way that mutie went, he took the whole building down, he’s fucking dangerous.”  Quickly he apologized, “sorry Madam he injured three of my men, and did the building all with playing cards.  If you see him, bring him down on sight.”  A yell brought the man back to the chase.

 

Paul exchanged a look with his wife. “He can’t have gone too far, we go round the block we should cut across him.”

 

Smaller explosions followed the sound of gunfire; it was easy to track the progression of the pursuit.  Looking up Ruth saw a figure silhouetted on the skyline just for a second, then it sailed through the air from one building to the next, and Paul pulled the car to a halt.

 

“Ruth, the other door.”

 

This was a calculated risk, the same they had taken when they had confronted a man with a trio of twelve-inch metal claws coming from each hand, and hell bent on slicing and dicing them.

 

The fugitive mutant was trapped, in the dark of the alleyway he would have to leap the car to get clear, and already the yelling was getting closer.

 

“Pile in kid, or do you think that you can keep running all night?”

 

The mutant dived into the back seat of the car, slamming the door behind him, then ducked down into the dark interior.  Paul floored the accelerator and the car was already pulling away by the time the Specials came pounding round the corner of the building.

 

“Pull over homme.” 

 

“Not yet kid, too much security, unless you would like to explain what was happening back there?”  Paul put it levelly, watching their unhappy guest in the rearview mirror as he sank deeper into the seat.  He frowned; he thought he’d seen a flash of red eyes glaring at him.  He caught a flutter of white in one of the leather-gloved hands, as it came out of a deep pocket in the duster.

 

“Don’t think about it kid, or I’ll hand feed the card to you.”  Paul put it in his police growl, the one that Ruth always kidded him about, the ‘his way or the highway’ tone.  Now was going to be the hardest bit, getting the kid to stay long enough to talk to them.  He couldn’t see much of their guest, he looked young, long hair, pulled back by some kind of black band, his eyes were now covered by wrap-around dark glasses, his clothing all black.  His hand rested on the back of the passenger seat, and Paul was surprised to see the glove had been cropped back to expose some of his fingers, leaving the others covered.

 

Ruth turned slightly in her seat to keep an eye on him.  His coat was filthy and from what she could see of his boots and trousers, they were also encrusted with dirt and dust.  She could smell him this close, he could not have washed in days, overlaying it was the smell of smoke that seemed to cling to him, there was heavy stubble on his chin, and she could hear his nails scratching across it as he rubbed his face. He fished out a battered packet of cigarettes, pulled one, and lit it with the tip of his finger. Inhaling with a sigh, he seemed to settle back down, exhaling slowly, savoring the taste of the tobacco.

 

She beat her husband to the punch; reaching back she took the cigarette from the younger man’s hand and crushed it out in the ashtray.  “Nasty habit stunts your growth.”  

 

Paul had to look away quickly; the young man’s express was priceless. Considering the guy was over 6 foot it was rather a moot point. He just shrugged and seemed to ease down another impossible inch on the back seat, his knee now braced against the back of the passenger seat.

 

To be on the safe side Paul had decided on a looping course home, because he was getting the feeling that this one wasn’t going to come willingly.  This was no street urchin with out of control powers, this was something very different, and he had just surfaced on his cop’s radar, it was like an itch he could not scratch, and it would not go away until found out what was causing it.

 

Getting him out of the car safely when they got home was going to be a problem, the kid didn’t look a psycho, but you could never tell. 

 

He felt an increase in the heat in the car and understood, the kid would be cold, perhaps freezing, because that duster didn’t look all that warm. The heat would make him groggy, and perhaps slow him down that fraction of a second that might give them the edge, and he had the feeling that they might need it.

 

Trying not to be too obvious, Ruth slide her hand into her coat pocket and closed her hand round the stun gun that Charles had given them for their own protection. Sometimes it had been the only way to calm a frightened mutant down until they could be reasoned with.

 

Keeping her voice pleasant she said,  “Okay young man, we’re home.”

 

The man was fast, trying to push the door open even as Paul hit the central locking. 

 

“Fuck dat!” The young mutant’s hand snapped up from his pocket; a card glowing was pushed into the lock side of the door, and he threw himself sideways.  The whole of the car’s electrics fried, he twisted, his booted feet smashing into the door, sending it flying open.  Then he froze, as the barrel of the stun gun rested against the side of his head.

 

“Freeze mister, sit back and keep your hands where I can see them, up and empty.”   She didn’t dare take her eyes off him as her husband managed to get himself out of the driving seat.  “Great, $400 for the system and he fries it. Help a mutant and get your car trashed.” He worked his wife’s door open taking the stun gun off her as she got out, the last thing he needed was the mutant to hurt her if he tried to escape.

 

“Out you get kid, now it’s either under your own steam, or we knock you out, and you get carried in, it’s going to be dawn soon, so you don’t have a lot of time.”  Paul shrugged, “your choice.”

 

The man in the duster nodded, slowly easing out of the car.  He was just starting to straighten when he was hit by the stun gun, his knees went from under him, and he hit the ground. A glowing card tumbling from his hand, Paul only just had time to grab the younger man by the scruff of his duster, and drag him clear before the card exploded.

 

 “Don’t say it Ruthie, I didn’t have a choice.”  Bending he changed his hold on the unconscious man, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him inside before the first of their inquisitive neighbors got to their windows to see what the noise was. 

 

Somehow he managed to manhandle the younger man onto the sofa, and for the first time that night they got a good look at the man they had been hunting.

 

Despite the half-light in the car they had been right about their impressions, he was young and good-looking. Paul put his age as 23 or 24.  His build was rangy, perhaps a little too slim, dirt mattered his long auburn hair.

 

Paul opened up the duster, it contained deep pockets, and with his training he was inclined to remove the garment altogether, rather than waste time frisking him, when he could miss something. 

 

Carefully he rolled the man onto his stomach and eased the long black duster off, putting it over the back of one of the chairs well away from him.  The boots the mutant wore had extra protection, and he was dressed all in black, the material had the feel of Kevlar to it. 

 

Looking up he said, “He’s wearing some sort of flexible body armor.”  His hand traced over it, there was added protection round the neck.

 

Feeling further down the side of the other man’s body, along the thigh, attached to the armor that fitted him like a second skin, he felt a metal tube.  Paul pulled it out and passed it back.  Ruth took it curiously, in length it was only about 12 inches long, she ran her fingers down it and then with a gasp jumped back as it snapped out to five foot in length. “What the hell?” 

 

“It’s a Bo-staff, I remember seeing a demonstration on one of these when they were thinking of replacing the night stick with them a couple of years back.  Put that in one of the pockets of the coat.”  With a click the staff contracted back on itself.

 

Paul picked up one of the kid’s hands, checking them over. They were grimy and the nails bitten back. 

 

His wife disappeared only to return a few minutes later with the cell phone.  “We got him Charles, he appears to be able to charge up things, and they said that he blew a building down with playing cards.” She paused, “It’s called bio-kinetic energy?  So it’s no good putting cuffs on him.”

 

Her husband followed her side of the conversation, and motioned for the cell phone.

 

“I agree we can’t have him running around with that sort of power,” Paul thought for a moment, “I think that if he blows us up it’s because he wants to do it, and not by accident. This kid has full control on his powers, I would bet anything on that.” 

 

Just then he heard a low moan.  “Kid’s waking up,” Paul said as he waved his wife back from the sofa, at the same time switching the cell phone off.

 

The young man’s eyes opened and with a cry of pain, he threw his hands up to protect his eyes. He was in agony as the light burned the retinas of his eyes.

 

Ruth scooped up the dark glasses she saw on the floor, pushing them into his hands just before her husband grabbed her, pushing her behind him. 

 

Still keeping his eyes firmly closed, the mutant slipped on the dark glasses.  Slowly the pain began to leave his face.  His handsome features took on a look that was hard to read,

 

 

“We were asked to find you by the Professor”; He only got that far when the younger man reacted suddenly.

 

“Non, no labs, no experiments non!” The younger man tried to pull away from them, looking for an escape route, before he could act  Paul put in quickly.

 

“You’re safe kid. We can offer you a warm bed, food.”

 

“So y’ want dis Cajun to spice up your bed? If so y’ can’t afford dis Cajun.”

 

Ruth tried to calm him, “It’s alright, Professor Xavier isn’t like that, and he helps mutants.”

 

“Not interested so Y’ let dis Cajun go now, okay.” His tone dropped slightly and there was an edge to his voice, like honey soothing.

 

Ruth suddenly pulled back, she could feel herself drifting,  “Look, if you don’t want to accept our help alright, but at least have something warm to eat, and get cleaned up, have a bath.”

 

“Take my clothes off.”

 

“Of course, you can’t take a bath with them on.”

 

“Still want to get into my pants oui.” 

 

Ruth had had enough, hands resting on her hips, she pulled herself up to her full height, “Young man do not flatter yourself, it’s below zero out there, and you’re going to freeze if you’re on the street, and that mister is not going to happen.  If you feel happier with your cards take them, but you will get into the bath, change into clean clothes, then join us for something to eat.” She paused, “Good, Paul show mister,” she paused and cocked her head in the younger mans direction.

 

“Gambit”

 

“Right,” Ruth acknowledged the name with a small smile of triumph.

 

Paul smothered a chuckle his wife the unmovable object. The kid was lost the minute he stepped into the car,

 

“Alright, Paul show Gambit up to the bathroom, and young man,” she looked straight at him, “I am sorry that we had to stun you, and I know that you were hurting before that, so get cleaned up and we will patch you up.  You’re not a prisoner, so there is no need to run.”  She had decided not to try and deal with the gash now, there was time for that later, at the moment she knew that Gambit would not let her get close.

 

Paul cut in, “this way.”  Somehow Ruth knew that Gambit was not going to run, that coat he had left with her was more than just warmth, although she doubted that a duster would keep him very warm, it was some connection, more personal.  He would not leave that.

 

Gambit followed the older man up the stairs, somehow Ruth’s honest indignation cut through to him more than any honeyed words. He had tried to sway her, but she had pushed past his influence, and he regretted what he had said, but he still didn’t completely trust them, after all who opened up their house to a street rat.

 

“That’s the bathroom.” The man’s voice jolted him out of his line of thought, as he thrust some thick towels into his hands.  “You’ll find soap and shampoo in there, see you later.” He gave him a smile and then started down the stairs before turning back.  “Gambit?”

 

“Oui?”

 

“Why the dark glasses?”  Paul asked..

 

Gambit raised a hand and pulled them off and looked straight at him.

 

Paul gasped, his eyes were red on black, he had thought he has seen red in the car but that could just have been reflection, they had an almost demonic look to them, but then this was no demon this was a lost, and frightened young man.

 

“Impressive kid.”

 

“Y’ not frightened of Gambit?” 

 

“Why?  They’re okay, a little spooky, but okay, I’ve seen worse.  See you downstairs,”

 

For a moment Gambit just watched him leave, with a shake of his head he turned into the bathroom. He could feel no hostile vibes from them, if anything they wanted to help, what he could not understand yet was why.  They were human, 100%, so why would they be helping a mutant?  There was more to this than the surface, but in the meantime he at least could have a hot meal, a warm bath, and a place to sleep tonight, away from the Specials and the dangers of the street.  So he might as well take advantage while he could.

 

**Part Three**

 

Paul Taylor had driven across to Westchester first thing the next morning, leaving their newly acquired mutant at home, to give a personal report on the newcomer.   Now he sat across the desk from the Professor, who was one of the most powerful telepaths in the world, but he never feared that these secrets would be plucked from his head, if anything the Professor had too many scruples.

 

“So Paul what’s he like as a person?” Charles folded his hands and leaned his chin on them, looking like a wise Buddha.

 

“Gambit, that is his street name, is volatile, really fast on his feet, very agile, and his reflexes are like lightening Charles.  But there’s a lot of baggage up here.”  Paul tapped his forehead.  “He’s not the trusting kind. He’s tactile by nature, but pulls back if he thinks there is going to be contact.  I certainly think that if he’s cornered he could be very dangerous. He knows how to look after himself.”

 

“You sound impressed Paul.”

 

“I am. I had a look at the damage he caused, and read the reports, very impressive.”

 

“Did he show any violence towards either of you?”  Charles already knew the answer; Paul would never have left Gambit alone with his wife if there were the slightest question about him.  But he wanted to hear Paul say it.

 

“Not really, he blew the electronics in the car, but that was flight or fight.”  Paul smiled “one thing, your life is going to get interesting, with two of them in the Mansion.”

 

“Two of them?”

 

“The kid’s more like Logan than Scott.  I would bet that in the first 32 hours he will have violated every code of conduct you have in the school. The kid will be pushing the boundaries and, oh by the way, he’s a chain smoker, so good luck Charles.”

 

The chuckle from the Professor was unexpected; “Scott is going to find Gambit very interesting and perhaps educational.”

 

For all the Professor loved Scott Summers, the leader of the X Men, like a son, he was all too aware that Scott was rather inflexible in his thinking, expecting all of them to live up to the code he did.

 

Scott’s first shock had been their resident Canadian, Logan, code named Wolverine.

Logan was a cold-blooded killer, trained by the best to be the best; he had joined the X-Men only eight months ago.  In the X men to kill was a last resort, for Logan it was second nature.  He could be brutal and vicious when needed, and anyone that has seen the animal side of his nature released, when he went feral, never doubted how dangerous the man was. 

 

But they had soon found that Logan has many sides to his nature, he had been hurt and betrayed too many times to allow his defenses down. His trust had to be earned, but under it all was a man worth knowing, a strong and loyal friend. The Canadian’s bad attitude was legend but it was off set by the fact that he did have a sense of humor, which you had to be able to survive long enough to actually appreciate.  He had become a valuable member of the X Men.  Now it looked like Scott’s headache was about to be increased by one.

 

Paul continued, “He’s Cajun, speaks French and English. His accent is pretty heavy, at times, he’s intelligent, but very closed mouth, and he’s got tons of attitude.

 

“Attitude?”  Charles echoed.

 

“You have to see it to believe it. Let me tell you what happened after we got him to the house, remember, I was saying that we had to zap him.  I know, I know, we should not have, but that kid was going to rabbit on us. And believe me he was in no condition to do it.

 

_Earlier Morning.._

_Paul looked up at the ceiling of the kitchen above which was the bathroom, and the young man called Gambit they had rescued.  He turned to his wife watching her prepare a meal for a man who at this minute was probably riffling their bedrooms before leaving via the nearest open window._

_“Quit worrying dear, I am sure that everything is going to be alright. I have a good feeling about this boy.”  She picked up a mug of coffee adding milk and honey.  “Now take that upstairs and make sure he did not drown in the bath.” She waited until her husband reached for the mug and then added.  “Make sure you knock, I think seeing a strange man that close might be bad for him.”_

_“What did you pick up?”_

_Ruth shook her head,” just a lot of pain someone’s, hurt that boy in the past.”  She didn’t class herself as a mutant, she just had what she called insight into people, and the moment the young man had come near her, she had felt the need to look after him._

_He paused outside of the bathroom door, none of the other doors on the landing looked as if they had been opened.  Paul pushed the door open, and it hit some clothing, he eased in.  The air was heavy with condensation from the hot water.  Gambit laid in the bath, one knee was resting on the edge of the bath, his ankle hooked round the cold water tap, his other leg straight out, one arm hanging down the side of the bath, his head back he looked asleep.  The dark glasses on the closed toilet seat near the bath, where he could easily grab them.  Paul moved further into the bathroom, he could see a burn scar on the younger man’s chest; it disappeared down under the water. On his thigh were several deep claw marks still scabbed and healing, heavy bruising on his hip, again disappearing under the water, and claw mark on his left shoulder.  For a moment he wondered what to do, he didn’t want to make the younger man self conscious, so he eased back out of the door and then knocked hard. As he did it he missed the red on black eyes flicker open and watch him leave._

_Paul put his head round the corner of the door, “you awake kid?”  He saw Gambit appear to wake with a start, almost going under the water, catching the side of the tub. He groped for the dark glasses unable to meet the police officer’s eyes until they were covered.  His body was tense, and his hand rested on a wooden scrubber_

_Paul tried to ignore the fact that he was sure the wood was glowing slightly.  It was to be expected for what his wife had hinted earlier. So he just continued as if it was the most natural thing in the world._

_“Ruth thought you might need this to help warm you up.  It’s alright, don’t worry about the hot water, we have plenty.”   He handed him the coffee and then went out only to return with a clean pair of sweats.  “Put these on and we’ll get your stuff cleaned up.”  He collected the black clothing and took it down with him. As he walked down he was examining the sleeve of the suit, and the four deep red bars on the side; the top bar was a pocket, and inside some more playing cards. In his memory something began to stir._

_Gambit yawned. He was tired, and between the heat and warm bath, he was almost asleep. He took a sip of the coffee, and yawned again.  He had let the older man talk, giving him a chance to wrap his charm factor round him.  All he had felt was the honest need for the man to help him. But there were nerves as well; the man was concerned for his family. And for that reason he could forgive him for creeping in the first time._

_Getting out of the bathtub, Gambit caught a glance of himself in the mirror; at 24 his body already bore the scars of a hard life.  Twisting slightly he could see the bite mark on his left shoulder, already badly infected it had burst and was bleeding._

_Without a second thought he searched through the bathroom cabinets, finding paper tissues and tape he managed to pad the wound and then struggled  into the sweatshirt and pants.  When he stepped out into the corridor, his duster was laid on the floor; he pulled it on, wrapping it round him, his hands frisking the pockets to find out what had been removed.  Everything was in place; even the Bo-staff was lying next to it the coat was the only thing that he owned. It was his most treasured possession._

_The cough made them both jump, they were use to visitors stepping on the creaking steps, but the young man had by luck or choice missed them all.  Looking at that smug expression on his face, Ruth was willing to bet it was by choice._

_“I wasn’t sure what you wanted so I made a little of everything,” Ruth told him as she ushered him to a seat and placed a large plate of food in front of him.  . She nodded towards the door; silently telling her husband they had to leave Gambit alone to eat, and give him time to think and perhaps decided to stay._

_0-0-0-0_

_“Why y’ help Gambit.”  The young man stood in the doorway to the living room, in his hand a cup of coffee,, between the food, and the warmth of the bath, he was beginning to feel human again. But he still needed to know what was going on. Lowering his barriers, he tried to get a fix on the two other people in the room.  No one went to all this trouble just from the goodness of their heart, like this Professor they were talking about. Sure.  Professor or Antiquarian, all the same they all wanted a piece of him._

_“You needed help Gambit, and we’re just glad that we were able to do it.”  Paul answered._

_“Rig’t” The sarcasm in that one word was almost like a physical blow._

_He eased himself down in the seat furthest away from them, the duster pulled round him, his hand rested just near one of the pockets._

_Then with a sardonic smile he removed his dark glasses, and Ruth found herself looking into the red eyes that seemed to burn right through her. She made herself meet his gaze.  He was waiting for her to react to them like everyone had done until this evening, when the man had showed no fear of Le Diablo Blanc._

_Ruth closed the distance between them and crouched down, so that she was level with him, her hand resting near his, she reached out and her fingers just lightly touched the side of his face. Again the flinch but he didn’t pull away. “Beautiful eyes, I can guess why you keep them covered, but in this house you don’t have to. Just be yourself, no one is going to judge you.”  As she started to stand up, Gambit caught her, his long slender fingers wrapping round her wrist, she immediately stilled.  It was then Ruth felt it again, warmth fused her face, “there is no need for that.”  She covered his hand, and lightly patted it. Only then did he release her hand and sink back into the chair._

_When she turned her back to her husband, she mouthed, “I am all right.” But deep down she was unsettled, there was something more to Gambit than just the ability to charge playing cards and use them as weapons, and this was the second time she had felt it projected at her._

_“So what was all the excitement about earlier?”  As a police officer Paul knew he would hear the official version of the events of the night, but he wanted the kid’s version first.”_

_There was marked silence._

_“One of the Specials said that you took a building down, was there a reason, or did you just fancy a bit of demolition?”_

_“De Maraudeuhs, dey would have killed de ot’er mutants, Gambit had to stop dem.”  Gambit shrugged, “Dey we’re too many, had to brin’ de whole place down.”_

_“That must have been when you registered on Cerebro.”  Seeing the look Paul explained, “the Professor, he monitors for mutants, trying to locate and help them. He runs a school for the gifted.”_

_“Gambit too old for school.”_

_“Well they do other things as well.  Anyway, the Professor called us because he got a spike in this area, an Alpha class mutant, and a real power surge. We’ve helped in the past, and tried to help you.”  He paused, “looks like I interrupted you, you said you brought the building down, with a card?”_

_“Non, a whole pack,” Gambit’s hand disappeared into one of the inner pockets and brought out a pack of cards, he fanned them out, and they began to glow yellow with energy._

_“Gambit,” there was an edge of fear in the voice that called to him.  The woman was frightened, and trying not to show it. He gives her a reassuring smile._

_The energy seemed to melt back into his hand, just leaving innocent playing cards, he closed the fan, and they disappeared back into his pocket again._

_“What other gifts do you have,” Ruth put in levelly, trying to control her voice, “because I can feel you, feel something.”_

_For the first time, the young man in front of her seemed to shift uncomfortably, but not talking._

_“So you took the building down, what happened next?”  Paul took them on to what he instinctively felt was safer ground._

_“Den Gambit got away. Only de Specials came, and it became interestin.” He shrugged._

_“I suggest you get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow,” Paul got up, “I’ll get the blankets, you can use the sofa, and Gambit we expect to see you tomorrow morning.”_

_Later, sinking into bed, Paul leaned over and kissed his wife.  “Another stray in the fold.”  Cuddling down in the blankets, he held his wife close._

_With only his own thoughts, he could not help sometimes to wonder at the risks they ran helping runaways, but his mind had been made up the first time he had seen a mutant kid no older than his daughter Mandy, beaten and killed for being different. He had sworn then, it would not happen again._

_Downstairs, far from sleeping, Gambit sat on the sofa, the blankets pulled round him like a cloak.  He lit his first cigarette with a brush of his fingertip, and inhaled the smoke, savoring it.  He went back to shuffling his cards, before putting them down on the coffee table with a soft slap as he started one of many games solitaire, not trusting himself to sleep._

_0-0-0-0_

_Paul rolled over and looked at the clock, it was 7:30 am, it was lucky he was on late shift today, it would give him a chance to speak to the Professor and do some research on that armor of the kid’s._

_It was then he saw Ruth’s library book lying on the side table forgotten.  It was a classic Terry Pratchett book, ‘Guards Guards’, it had a wacky sense of humor that he found he was slowly taking to, due to both Mandy and Ruth being hooked on the book; ‘All about Guilds’, ‘Assassins Guide’, ‘Seamstress Guild’ and ‘THIEVES GUILD’._

_“Oh my god,” Paul breathed out loud, now he remembered, the Thieves Guild!  Reaching over he picked up the phone and began to dial. A few minutes later he put the phone down, and re-dialed, “operator, New Orleans Police Department please.”_

_0-0-0-0-0_

_Surprise, surprise, Gambit was still in the front room.  He had moved one of the chairs into the corner so that he could see both door and window, also he was placed so the light from the window missed him, and during the night he had changed back into his black armor._

_His knees were pulled up and he was huddled in his coat.  With his dark glasses on it was hard to see if he was asleep, but from the rise and fall of his chest, his breathing pattern seemed to indicate he was in REM sleep._

_Now came the hardest bit, waking him up.  The odds were that he would come away aggressively; it would all depend on the speed of his reflexes_

_“Gambit,” the moment he said the name the young man was a blur of movement, he powered off the chair, hit the carpet in a forward roll and a card was already flying towards him._

_Paul threw his weight on the back of the sofa, upturned it and the card hit the underside. The explosion sent the sofa flying backwards, but absorbed the power._

_“Gambit, easy boy, no one is going to hurt you.”  Paul slowly lifted his head over the top of the sofa, waving Ruth back as she rushed in, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the scene.  He had had to stop himself from reaching for his service weapon. That would only complicate matters._

_The younger man was in a crouch, his stance shouted that this was a trained fighter, in his hand were three more cards, each of them charged and ready to fly._

_“Back away homme, Gambit don’t want t’ hurt y.”_

_“I know about the Thieves Guild, I spoke to Commander St. John of the NOPD.”_

_“Y’ a cop?”_

_“NLPD.  Easy kid, I am just getting my badge,” Paul pulled it from his pocket with his thumb and forefinger.  “No one is trying to arrest you, but I recognized your armor, and needed to know what a Master Thief is doing in my town.”_

_“How much y’ know, about the Guild?”_

_“Enough. St John...”_

_“St. John, fils d’une chienne.” Gambit spat the words out, the cards glowing brighter._

_“Gambit, I sure hope you know what you’re doing, because I would sure hate for this house to blow up because you go supernova.”  Paul’s tone changed to the one he would have used to talk to some psycho gunman, trying to talk them down.  “So why don’t you put the cards away.”_

_He watched as the glowing charge began to seep back into Gambit’s hand and then vanished._

_Only then did Paul get to his feet, keeping his hands clear. “Why don’t we have a chat,” he rolled the sofa back onto its castors, and coaxed the younger man into the kitchen. As he walked past, Paul stopped to pick up Gambit’s sweat pants and top that had fallen to the floor.  He frowned; there was a bloody stain on the back of the shirt.  He folded it up on its self.  It confirmed what he had seen last night, Gambit had been hurt, but at the moment was too paranoid to admit to it._

_The more he thought about it the more he knew that Gambit had to go to Xavier’s school._

_0-0-0-0-00_

 

Xavier’s Mansion.

 

The Professor took a sip of his tea, “I look forward to meeting Gambit, when can you get him to the school?”

 

“That might be a problem, he certainly doesn’t trust anyone, but we are getting there. If he stays with us a while we can start to get him to trust us, then he might accept the idea of coming to the school a little easier.”

 

“Try to find out as much as you can about him Paul, it all helps.”

 

Paul cut across the Professor, “I will let you know.  I think that if I can get the information from New Orleans that a big piece of the puzzle is going to fall into place.

 

-0-0-0-0-0

 

Back at the house.

 

Ruth was cooking; it was her turn to make the biscuits and cakes for the coffee morning. Straightening up, she nearly dropped the hot pan as she turned and found herself nose to chest with Gambit.  His red on black eyes seemed to burn into hers as she tilted her head up to met his glaze.

 

Y’ homme really trust moi.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“De man’s a fool.”

 

Again she felt a buzzing like sensation in her head.

 

“Cut that out young man!  Now I don’t think you’re a telepath, but you’re trying something, and it won’t work.  We are helping you because you need help.”  When Gambit started to open his mouth Ruth added, “don’t deny it.  Now get in that room and get undressed.”

 

Gambit’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile, “Y’ should have ju’st asked fore, Cher.”   His eyes flashed with mischief.

 

“Young man, if I were younger, and not married, then I might take you up on the offer, but as it is, I am old enough to be your mother, so.”  Ruth gave him a hard prod in the chest, “I know you’re hurting. You’re favoring your right arm, and you’re bleeding, and it needs looking at, so cut the chat, and take this off,” she tugged the duster and armor, “and let me have a look.”

 

“Oui Madam.”

 

Ruth caught his arm and turned him to the door, and gave him a push, “I’ll be there in ten.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Ruth had been a nurse before she had had to take early retirement, it had come in useful, and some of the mutants they had helped had been injured.  She knew she was going to have to deal carefully with Gambit, as the young man was skittish.  While he slipped out of the top half of his armor she had her back to him, preparing the supplies she might need. She turned and for a second the breath caught in her throat at the scaring across his back.  Bruising and fresh cuts marred his pale skin, the trousers of his black uniform hung on his hips, and she saw the tissue paper padding.

 

Her voice was fused with anger, “tissue!  What were you thinking, tissue paper?”  Firmly she tugged him down to sit on one of the chair, but before she could start on the worst of the injury she heard the front door open and her daughter’s voice.  With muttered apologies, she went to meet her, she didn’t want her to walk in on them.

 

She closed the door behind her.  “Mandy we have company, I am just patching him up, so don’t come in, okay.”

 

“Sure mom.”

 

“Now Gambit might be with us for a little while, no need to worry,” she added quick as she saw her daughter’s expression.

 

“G gambit,” She stuttered.  “That’s his name.”

 

“Street name, it’s still early days, when he trusts us I am sure we’ll get his full name but at the moment it’s just Gambit.”  She paused, “I best go and check on him.”

 

“Right mom.”  Mandy took the stairs two at time, sank heavily down onto the bed and pulled out her cell phone.  Her parents had told her over and over again it was for emergencies only, well as far as she was concerned this was a ten-foot high notice with flashing lights saying this is an emergency. She hit the speed dial to ring her sister.

 

“Kat, it’s Mandy, get home now,” she paused, “Gambit’s here.”

 

“Stay put and don’t get too close to him, I am coming straight back.  Has he seen you yet?” Kat put in quickly, if he had then the damage might already have been done.

 

“No.”

 

“Good keep out of his way.”

 

The phone clicked off and Mandy sat cradling the phone in her hand. This had all the makings of a disaster waiting to happen.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Ruth looked at the bite wound on Gambit’s shoulder, it was deep and badly infected, “ I am not going to hurt you, but that has to be treated.”

 

All the time she was working on his injury, Ruth kept up a steady flow of words of reassurance,  finally stripping off the gloves she said” you need to keep that clean and I will dress it again tonight”. 

 

She heard the front door open and close, and then footsteps running upstairs, but gave it no more thought as she turned her attention to the Cajun’s other injuries.

 

 

Kat joined her sister in the bedroom, not wanting to cross Gambit yet. 

 

“What’s happening?”  Kate demanded.

 

“Mum and Dad picked up a stray and it’s Gambit. So what do we do, tell mum and dad?”  She paused, “the truth?”  Mandy was not too keen on lying to them.

 

“Not unless we have to, he got us out of there and nearly got killed doing it, but Dad would not understand, since he kidnapped us, but we keep an eye on him.”

 

The sound of the door opening brought them both round to face it, “Hi mom.”

 

“I thought I’d best tell you, we picked Gambit up last night.  He’s an alpha mutant, but there is no need to be worried, he’s been hurt, and the Professor wants him at Winchester, so we hope to get him to accept the offer of a place there.  Perhaps you could travel up with him, you start back on the 15th.”

 

“Sure mom.”

 

“You’re going to help with him, he needs to feel that he belongs, that he’s not an outsider.”

 

“Sure, yeah, sure.”

 

“Is something wrong?”  Ruth saw the look pass between her two young daughters.

 

“No, down in a minute.” Mandy put in, trying to look innocent. Their mother was suspicious but had let it go.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

When they finally came downstairs, Gambit was settled into the over stuffed armchair in the far corner away from the window, and he had not changed, still wearing the skin tight black Armour he had been wearing when they had escaped, and the black duster was slung over the back of the chair. Both of them had seen how volatile the Cajun could be, and the result when that anger had been released.

 

The way he cocked his head slightly it was a good guess that he was puzzled, possibly thinking he had seen them somewhere, but thank god he had not remembered them.  It was better that it stayed that way, until they were all in a controlled place like the Mansion. 

 

Gambit got to his feet, graceful as ever, like a giant cat.  The girls offered to shake hands but didn’t take offence when Gambit didn’t accept it, he was not being rude, it was just that Gambit didn’t trust people, and they couldn’t blame him.

 

The Marauder frowned, “Salut.”

 

“Yeah, Salut, Gambit, hope you like it here.”  Mandy shifted, slightly uncomfortable as she felt the brush of his empathy stroking across her mind, he was scanning them.  Mandy kept her thoughts neutral, and watched the tension in the rangy body ease.

 

“We have homework, best go and finish it.”  Kat put in.

 

As they left they saw the tolerant look on their mother’s face. She thought they were nervous because they were confronted by a good looking young man.  Hell, her mother should have seen what they had to do for him after the escape from the lab, but whatever she thought was better than admitting the truth.  Gambit needed a second chance just as much as anyone else.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The day was taken at a leisurely pace.  Ruth would go into the living room to check on her charge. He had spent most of the day sleeping. When awake he was playing solitaire but always kept more cards in his hand than he needed to play the game.  Ruth would just shrug and go back to what she was doing.

 

Paul had arrived home in the evening to find Gambit in the kitchen; the younger man was just reaching for a cup of coffee when he screamed, the cup dropping from seemingly lifeless fingers.  As the telepathic bolt cleaved through his mind, he was driven to his knees, his hands clawing at this head, gripping his hair, and for a moment he teetered on the edge of blacking out. .//His master’s voice// he thought bitterly.

 

When he slowly lifted his head he saw the Taylor’s gathered round him, for a second they morphed into Dr. Essex and the Marauders, taking pleasure at his pain, he scrabbled across the carpet.  Grabbing one of the old Wellington boots near the door he charged it and threw.

 

The explosion sent rubber flying in all directions, like snow.

 

“Gambit, chill out,” Kat lost her temper, they had been through this before, after the escape,  “and quit blowing the place up.”

 

“Whoops,” Kat breathed as she saw her sister roll her eyes, turning she saw her parents in the doorway where they had thrown themselves for cover, looking at her oddly. //Oh shit!//

 

Gambit was getting shakily to his feet. Essex had tried to blast through his blocks, and he was the only person that could do it, since he had taught him how to erect them high and strong.  They would block Xavier out, but the doctor had punched through them, and it showed the Doctor was impatient.

 

He managed a muttered, “Sorry,” and staggered past them into the cold night air. His stomach heaved and he threw up what food he had eaten near the trashcan, leaving him shaking.  He had to get the mission over and done and then escape. He could not go through Essex’s re-education again.  But the Antiquarian would not take kindly to him returning to New Orleans, breaking the contract with Essex, and of course the Guilds would kill him. Last time he had been lucky to get out alive.  He looked at the house, these people had taken a street rat in, and cared for him, not caring that he was a mutant, not knowing that he was going to betray them.

 

The part of him hidden deep down, told him that these were good people, only wanting to help and that he should run now if he was going to harm them.  Their concern registered on his empathy like a warm blanket wrapping him and keeping him safe.

//Sure,// the mocking voice told him, //they’ll care right up until they know you’re nothing more than a Thief and a whore, you’re nothing, you’ll be lucky that the man doesn’t take you in or put you out of your misery.//

 

Gambit shook his head as he heard the woman Ruth calling his name; he only had a use to the Antiquarian, or Essex, that was all, he didn’t belong with decent people.   He had reached the doorway when a second telepathic bolt hit him, his knees gave, just as he blacked out he was aware of Ruth catching him and easing him to the ground.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Next Morning

 

Paul looked across at his passenger, and shook his head.  Gambit hadn’t said a word since they’d left the house. He had tried to convince the Cajun that it was for the best, that after the third psychic attack, in the middle of the night, when he had woken up screaming, that only the Professor could help him. 

 

The younger man was now curled up on himself, the duster pulled round him, his red on black eyes hidden behind the dark glasses and his head resting against the cold window as he watched the world go past. 

 

Gambit made himself concentrate on the work at hand.  The third time Essex had gotten through and made it clear; he had to get into the Mansion and leave with a copy of McCoy’s research disc, and the database of all the identified mutants. The Cajun made himself go cold, pushing out of his mind the kindness of the Taylor’s, and focused just on the mission. He was Gambit, the mutant bastard, Le Diablo Blanc; he could not buy into Xavier’s dream.

 

**Part Four**

 

New Orleans.

 

Commander St. John looked at the man in front of him; Jean Luc LeBeau was the head of the Thieves Guild.  St. John would have liked nothing better than to put him in prison and throw away the key.  But nothing was that simple in New Orleans, the Thieves and Assassin’s Guilds had been fighting almost since the Arcadians had first settled there in 1755. Nothing ever changed, only one thing could unite them, and he had the information.

 

“I had a telephone call from a Detective in North Lynn, Washington State, he knows where Le Diablo Blanc is.”  He managed to hide his smile; Jean Luc was on his feet.

 

“D’at encule bastard.”  The crudity burst from Jean Luc’s mouth.

 

St. John knew he had hit close to home, Jean Luc was able to hide his emotions most of the time, except when it concerned Le Diablo Blanc.  He was the pet of the Antiquarian, trained by a Master Thief who had been banned from the Guild, and, when they weren’t cursing Le Diablo Blanc, they would grudgingly admit that he was one of the best thieves in the country. He did whatever job the Antiquarian wanted, and had never been known to fail; his sudden disappearance had caused ripples through the New Orleans underworld. Better the devil you could see than the one you couldn’t

 

What little was known about him was that he had spent his whole life with the Antiquarian, and it was well known that both the Thieves and Assassins Guild would love to kill him. 

 

For Jean Luc it was personal. His son Henri had  nearly died at the hands of the White Devil with the black and red eyes, and Jean Luc had made no secret of the fact that when he caught him, the Devil would be praying for a quick death before Jean Luc was finished with him.

 

Settling down, St. John began to brief Jean Luc on what he had found out, including the fact that the detective thought the devil Gambit was Thieves Guild, and that he had not put him wise that he was not.  Jean Luc nodded his approval, this time the Devil would not slip through his fingers.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

For Charles Xavier his interview with the newest addition to the school had been ‘different’, he had been unable to read him. The only other person that defeated him was Logan, whose fractured, scrambled mind was impossible to read. Like this young man, Logan’s mind moved like quicksilver.  Xavier could force his way through the barriers, but to do so would cause great pain, and he was not sadistic. Gambit would have to allow him in.

 

The Cajun had been restless even though he was sitting still, and Xavier hadn’t failed to notice that in a gloved hand he held a pack of cards, the feel of them seem to sooth the younger man down. 

 

He had suggested that they complete the interview in the danger room, so that Gambit could demonstrate his powers. In the control room, flanked by Paul and Scott, he had put Gambit through his paces, starting at level 2, then gradually cranking it up to the highest level.

 

Watching Gambit work was an education, there was an elegant arrogance in how he took care of the opposition, he would make an excellent addition to the team, and his talents as a Master Thief would be put to good use.

 

When Gambit walked out of the Danger Room, a cigarette in his mouth, Charles suppressed a smile, “Welcome to the X-Men, Gambit,” he put a hand out, and left it hanging there.  It was up to Gambit to make the next move, the red eyes never left his but the Cajun didn’t shake hands. Xavier had had to calm Scott down mentally, as the leader of the X-Men had seen it as a grave insult.  But to the Professor it told him more than words, he would have to deal carefully with this young man, this was a man that had suffered too much in his short life, and now perhaps he had found a haven.

 

.

Four weeks later

 

The Danger Room at the mansion had been set up for a special training session.  The mission would only need the talents of two of the X-Men, Gambit and Angel; it was going to be a difficult entry and exit if they were going to get the files needed to track the Brotherhood of Humanity, a new violent anti-mutant group.

 

What was not going to help was that there was no love lost between the two men, and this was going to require a lot of trust on their part.

 

The Cajun, Gambit, looked up at the left side of the Danger Room, the mock up of the side of the building was around forty feet off the ground.  In reality the target building would be 60 stories, and extending eight feet out from the edge of the flat roof was enough high tech hardware to ventilate anyone trying to come over it.

 

The top of the roof was protected against any type of aerial insertion, so their team leader had decided that it was better to start with what should be the easier part of the mission, the extraction, to gain confidence with that first.

 

Warren Worthington III, code named  Angel, took to the air on his majestic twelve foot winds  and hovered in place and waited.  He was going to be the catcher in this operation. He watched as the Cajun climbed up the side of the building mock up, made his way to the edge of the building, took a closer look at the hardware of spikes, and shook his head.

 

The six foot two Cajun was fast and agile, part of it was possibly his mutation, the other the training he had undergone as a thief.

 

Though the mission would be run at night, to start with they would do the practice in daylight, both of them wore lightweight headsets so that they could hear each other. 

 

Gambit folded his dark glasses, slid them into his pocket, and turned to look up at Warren, “Ready went y’ are Wings.”

 

The Cajun accent grated on Warren’s nerves, though really everything about the newest addition to the X Men grated on him. 

 

“Ready,” Warren breathed the one word, and then dived.  He felt the timing was wrong even as the Cajun jumped, his duster streaming out behind him, Angel’s forearm caught Gambit in the face.  The Cajun missed his grip and tumbled to the floor, twisted like a cat to land on his feet, then pitching forward onto his hands, head hanging down as he spat out blood and slowly got to this feet. 

 

And began to climb back up the ladder to the mock roof.

 

Warren could hear Scott asking about Gambit, the man mumbled something and went back to his mark, waiting while Warren gained height again.

 

He might not like the man, but he had not meant to hurt him.

 

“I think I got to you too late, you were beginning to drop away.”  Looking down on the other man he added, “Okay, we can do this, once you clear the hardware, throw your hands up over your head.”

 

“Okay homme.”

 

Warren swore, he had come down faster than before, but only managed to grab one of the Cajun’s wrists, and this swung the man off balance, that pulled them both towards the wall.  He had managed to kick off from it, but with a sickening thud he had heard Gambit hit hard, and suddenly he was a dead weight in Warren’s hands.  Back stroking with his wings Angel pulled away and slowly began to descend, he felt the other man touch the ground and only then did he land.

 

Already the door to the room was opening and Hank McCoy, their doctor, was rushing in.

 

Looking up into the monitoring room Warren could see the look on Scott’s face, he was not happy.  Two attempts and on the first one he had sent his partner, god, using that word for that Cajun street trash was sickening, falling to his death.  On the second he had knocked him out cold.  He could not get the timing right.

 

He stalked out in disgust not bothering to check on his partner, leaving Hank to pick up the pieces.

 

 

The failures ate at Warren, he would have loved to place all the blame at the feet of the Cajun, but the truth was he was the one screwing the mission up. Feet tucked under him Warren sat on the top of the Mansion, the one place that he could have peace to think, movement caught his eye, and looking down he saw Gambit walking through the garden, the habitual cigarette in his hand.

 

Spreading his wings Warren came down to land in front of him, the Cajun didn’t even look surprised.

 

“Wings,” the Cajun took a pull on the cigarette.

 

“We need this to work.  Look, you ready to have another go round the block?”

 

“De Danger Room?”

 

“No here.  Look,” Warren knew he was struggling, all he could feel was the burning need to wipe the smirk off the handsome Cajun’s face, “you stay there and put that cigarette out, I am going to try for a pick up.”  He looked past the man; he needed to know if there was a safe place to dump his passenger if he made a mistake.  It was then he saw the nerves in the way the Cajun ground his cigarette out, and felt a surge of superiority, “Don’t worry Cajun, I am not going to drop you.”

 

“Y’ have twice.”

 

Warren bit back a sarcastic remark and concentrated on the job in hand.

 

“Just remember to relax your body before I hit.”

 

Warren took to the air with two powerful down beats of his wings, going vertical for two hundred feet, just savoring the feel of the air under his wings and the pure joy of flight.

 

Working his way down from the height like a falling leaf to kill the speed, he rolled into a perfect run, he needed to grab the man, not take him out. 

 

This time he hit perfectly, the Cajun was facing him, and he caught him round the waist and pulled him up against chest as he went for height, the other man instinctively catching hold of. Slowly he flared out and came down, making sure to release the Cajun as they touched, in time to see him sink to his knees and throw up in the grass.

 

“Gambit,” he hesitated then touched the heaving man’s shoulder.

 

“Air sick,” two words and Warren felt a surge of relief run through him. At least the pick up had worked, but with a snarl he realized that it would not work on the roof, Gambit could not be stationary, he had to jump clear, and a moving target was the hardest to tag.

 

Bending slightly he caught the Cajuns hand and helped him to his feet.  Already the man was tugging out a battered packet of cigarettes and knocking one free, he lit it and savored the taste of the tabacco.

 

“Want to try again Gambit?”  Warren could not help but allow a smile to touch his lips.

 

A rueful shake of the head was all he got, he matched Gambit as the taller man started back to the Mansion. Warren shrugged, “So we can do it on the ground, but in mid air, I am missing something.”

 

“Me.”

 

Warren’s head snapped round to look at Gambit, but the quirk of the lips showed genuine humor.

 

“Right.”  He said the word slowly.   “Could you get higher?  I mean you’re clearing the hardware, but you’re already dropping.”  He paused, “that Bo-staff of yours, if you used that. I’ve seen you practicing,” he shrugged “if you could get higher.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Over coffee in the kitchen they discussed the mission, for the first time Warren actually listened to Gambit, instead of writing the man off as an ill educated thieving swamp rat.

Perhaps he should try to be more friendly, maybe now was the time to bury the hatchet.

 

Half a hour later the two men were back in the Danger Room, the Bo-staff attached to Gambit’s wrist by a long piece of leather, this way in the air he could drop it and not lose what was an important piece of equipment for the thief.

 

Putting his hands about his head, Gambit stretched to his full height.  Warren dived down catching Gambit’s wrists and pulling him up in the air, he had to fight to keep his balance with the Cajuns weight, but he managed it and took his passenger high in into the Danger Room.  Looking down he saw that Gambit had paled, “keep your eyes on my face Gambit, and you won’t’ get air sick, I am not going to drop you.”

With great care he eased the other man back down, but even so he stumbled and fell

 

Warren folded his wings, and put a hand out to draw him back to his feet, “feel like going for the brass ring Cajun.”

 

The smile on Gambit’s face was not nice, “Ready when y’ are win’s”

 

“I was born ready Cajun.” For the first time the men shared a smile.

 

The metal Bo-staff hit the edge of the roof and Gambit arched up like a pole-vaulter, he cleared the eight-foot easily, and then, started down, he released his hold.  This time Warren managed to get a firm grip on the duster, he killed his height quickly, in the mission that could have caused the thief’s death, at sixty floors the coat could have slide free.

 

“Not neat, but we did it.”

 

“Dis time homme, Gambit will twist round, okay.  Like dis, hands out, y’ grab.”  He dry ran through the moves, his red on black eyes seeming to glow, and Warren had an idea that the Cajun was actually enjoying himself.

 

“Sure.” Warren was not too sure, but at least they had managed the extraction once without him, in theory, killing his partner.

 

Climbing back into the air, Angel got into position, watching as the Cajun ran and vaulted, this time flipping onto his back in mid-air, hands out, Warren grabbed and caught his hands, he had the man.  He immediately went for height, and then gradually lowered him back down to the ground.

 

“We did it man, we did it,” Warren thumped his partner on the back, “I can’t wait to see Scott’s face when he sees what we can do.”

 

“First time we do it, dree times we can tell Cyke.”  Turning on his heels Gambit started back up again.

 

Wings aching, Warren lowered his mission partner back down again, five out of five extractions, and he had caught him every time, he didn’t like to appear weak, but he could not keep this up any longer.

 

“Buy you a beer?”  The offer took Gambit by surprise, Wings had made a point of avoiding him since he had arrived, must be this mission, but he needed a drink. 

 

“Okay mon amie.”  He fell in step.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Bobby was waiting for his best friend to come out of the Danger Room, and was surprised when Warren steered the Cajun to the kitchen with them for a drink.  He still didn’t know what to make of the new guy.  He had been with them a month and they still didn’t know his real name. Gambit was the only name they had for him. 

 

He made Bobby nervous, even the resident telepaths said they could not get a fix on him; it was like trying to hold quicksilver. He had seen the damage the older man could do with his cards and he always carried a pack, and seemed ready to use them. 

 

If Gambit was not playing solitaire, he would be compulsively shuffling them from one hand to the other, and Bobby had had a glimpse in his room, and seen the box of packs of cards, he must have bought out the small local post office’s whole supply.  To Bobby that spoke volumes, Gambit didn’t trust them.

 

Well if Warren could make a friend of him, maybe he could as well.  It was stupid, but the reason he had not spoken to the Cajun was because he could not understand the man half the time.

 

Also the Cajun had full control of his powers, whereas he could still remember when he had iced Logan by mistake, he shuddered remembering Wolverine stalking towards him, ready to make ice cubes out of him.  So for these reasons he had tried to ignore the other man. But it looked like Warren had just changed the goal posts on this one.

 

Snagging a beer for himself, he saw the way the Cajun lowered himself into the chair, he might not show it, but he was hurting. Hiding his grin, Bobby had an idea.  The Professor said they had to show Gambit that he fitted in. so maybe this was the time.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Five days later

 

Bobby had talked hard and long to get Warren to agree, it was a guy way of welcoming the Cajun to the family, they had all had it done to them, it would make him belong.

The communal showers were empty except for Gambit, it was funny the man always was the last to hit the showers, waiting until the rest of them had gone, but this time would be different.  The Cajun was in the shower, standing with his hands bracing the wall, head hanging down between, the warm water pounding against his head and shoulders, soothing the strains and bruises, he was lost in thought.

 

Warren came into the locker room with Bobby, and both laid in wait.

 

Gambit came out of the shower, his long auburn hair plastered round his face and shoulders, one towel in his hands, another slung low rounds his hips.  The Cajun spun round as he sensed Bobby, the other man made a lunge for him, catching him round the waist, pulling him across the table, sending papers and dirty towels flying in all directions.

 

Forced down over the table, face down, arms pulled up behind his back to stop him from charging any of the surfaces, he was trapped. Gambit was struggling violently.

 

“Okay Bobby, we do him now.”

 

“Me first,” Bobby begged, his body plastered over the lean Cajun’s body, the towel dropping to the floor as without thinking Bobby rocked against the Cajun as he reached for the small bag in his pocket.

 

It was then Warren suddenly was swamped by the emotions the Cajun was broadcasting; fear and stark terror, and they were causing it.

 

He released his hold on the Cajun’s arms and pulled Bobby back.  Immediately, Gambit tried to get as much distance from them as he could, his hands pressed to the top of the table, charging it, his eyes never leaving their faces.  Only Gambit’s control was stopping the table from exploding as it vibrated with power.

 

“Back off homme, y’ n’t hurtin Gambit. Gambit kill y’ first.” There was a touch of hysteria to the voice that had never been there before.

 

“Gambit it’s okay, I am not going to hurt you.” Carefully he reached out. Bobby leapt and caught Warren by the waist, his momentum taking him to the ground just as the table flew apart. In the confusion the Cajun caught his duster and pulled it tight against him as he backed into a corner, clinging to it like a child with a blanket, one hand already pulling out a pack of cards, setting them pulsing with a kinetic charge.

 

Jean didn’t even knock as she burst into the men’s locker room with Scott in tow, she had heard the telepathic scream, and it had driven her to her knees. All she had known was that she had to get to Gambit.

 

“Get them out of here.” She ordered, her eyes never leaving the Cajun.

 

Her foot nudged the bags of soot; Warren and Bobby had obviously been planning on emptying it onto the newest addition to the team.  Their idea of an induction, showing they had accepted the Cajun into the X-Men family, but it had backfired on them.

 

Jean lowered herself down so that she was level with Gambit, and tried to reach out to him, but she was thrown back by the power coursing through his mind,  “Gambit, it’s okay. They’re gone. No one is going to hurt you.”

 

He hugged the duster closer, the power still rippling through the coat.

 

“You know I am a lot softer than that coat, and warmer.”

 

The red on black eyes fixed on her. “Y’ offerin to hug Gambit?” 

 

“You asking?”  She turned the question round on him.

 

“Oui, Gambit ax in.”

 

Moving forward slowly, she opened her arms and pulled the man into them.  Leaning back against the wall, she tucked his head under her shoulder, his arms timidly going round her waist as gently she rocked him, her hands moving over his shoulders, soothing him.  Looking down she noticed the cards falling from his fingers, as he absorbed the power back inside himself.  What hit the floor was nothing more than pasteboard.

 

 

 

 

 

Scott eased the door to the locker room open, Jean’s voice in his head warning him to be careful, the last thing they needed to do was spook Gambit further. If Scott was honest he found Gambit an irritation, the man had no discipline, but he would trust him in any fight. And through his unique telepathic connection with his wife he had felt the scream, and the emotions behind it, pain and humiliation and fear, like a searing heat and no one should go through that alone.  He thought ruefully that a husband walking in to find a naked man in his wife’s arms should react a little differently than he did, Jean caught the thought and smiled back, before tucking Gambit closer, and turning her attention back to the Cajun.

 

Closing the door behind him again, Scott turned to Warren and Bobby, a jerk of his head indicated that they had to follow him.

 

“How is he?”  Warren put in, and that for Scott was a saving grace, they actually were worried about the Cajun. All those hours of working on the mission had bonded them.

 

“He’s settling down, the Professor wants to see you both, I’ll wait for Jean.”

 

Warren and Bobby listened to their mentor and the weight of what they had done began to dawn on them.  When he had finished, Warren was mortified. “Professor, we didn’t know,” he lowered his voice, “we didn’t think.  Is Gambit going to be okay?”

 

“He’s resting at the moment with Jean, you must,” he repeated the word, “MUST, explain what you were going to do.  He has to know that he is safe here, and Warren, I am disappointed in you, I expect this from Bobby... but you.”

 

Head down, Warren left, the professor was as close as a father to him, and he had let him down, he had to put this right.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Warren knocked on the Cajun’s door, there was nothing but silence to greet them, he traded a look with Bobby, “great, we call and he’s out.”  He was about to turn away when he paused, “just a minute, where would he go?”

 

The winged mutant opened the door, the room was in near darkness, and when he switched the light on he noticed the overhead light had been covered by a black cloth, he recognized it as Jean’s shawl.  The bed, just an empty frame, was moved away from the wall. He nearly missed it; the edge of the blankets and comforter on the floor on the other side of the bed, now he knew where the spare blankets had gone.  The Cajun had taken them.

 

Carefully he moved round the bed and looked down, the Cajun had created a warm nest of blankets on the floor behind the bed, bending, he got down on the same level as Gambit. 

 

“Hi.”   Warren cringed, he was not being flippant, but was not sure what to say to someone he had freaked out and who had thought he was going to be raped.  Warren eased down onto the floor, “I wanted to see you, make sure that you’re okay, you had us worried there.” 

 

When there was no answer he carried on, “Look, it was an accident, if we had known, we would never have pulled that stunt. What I am trying to say is that I am sorry.”

 

Bobby nodded, “Me too Gambit.” He reached a hand out; each of their moves was followed by the brilliant red on black eyes.

 

“You can read me.”

 

“Gambit no empath.”

 

“Okay, my mistake,” Bobby put in smoothly, but flashed a look at Warren.

 

Now was not the time for confrontation. 

 

Slowly Gambit straightened up, his gloved hands resting on Bobby’s.  Bobby curled his fingers round the Cajuns hand, allowing him to pull back if he wanted too.  But he didn’t.

 

“We okay?”  Bobby asked

 

“Oui.” But the voice showed he was still not totally sure.

 

Warren pushed the bed back to get more room, and settled down, pleased when Bobby followed suite, now they had to make him feel that he belonged again, it was not going to be easy.

 

00-0-0-0-0

 

The practice on the mission continued, as the same time they continued to collect the intelligence needed to make it a success.

 

But Scott was already having problems, Gambit’s nocturnal nature was causing him concern, the Cajun was out nearly all night, coming back at 3 or 4 in the morning, not getting up until 10 or 11, missing all the early morning training sessions unless someone hammered on his door. 

 

And that was another thing.  All the doors had locks, but just the standard sort.  Within 24 hours of moving in, Gambit had doubled the locks on his room, the fact it had been unlocked when Warren and Bobby had gone to speak to him had shown the confused state of his mind.  True to what Paul Taylor had said, within the first 72 hours he had broken every rule of the Mansion, returning with a couple of bottles of Bourbon, enough packs of cards to build the San Francisco bridge and a carton of cigarettes. And that had not included him hitting on nearly all the females of legal age in the School. 

 

But Scott still had the feeling that there was something wrong, out of kilter with him.

 

Hank McCoy pushed his glasses up on his nose and favored his visitor with a smile.

The fact he was big, furry and blue, with the agility of an acrobat and the strength of a gorilla, belied the fact that he was a kind and gentle man.  He had become a doctor to help people, and since joining the X-Men had seen injuries of many kinds, not all of them of the body, some of the mind and the soul.  Looking at Gambit he had the feeling the he was going to have to tread very carefully.

 

“So you decided to come this time Gambit?”

 

“Cyke said Gambit he had to.”  The Cajun looked past him at the equipment, and seemed to suppress a shudder.

 

“Sit down,” Hank waved him to a seat, only then did he continue, “I know you don’t like doctors Gambit, and I want you to know that I am not going to hurt you, it’s just a standard check up, before you go on the mission.  Now you let me check your shoulder, remember?”

 

“Oui.”

 

Hank handed him a hospital gown, “I need you to change into that.”

 

“What for?”  Gambit tried to push it back. The doctor looked up quickly, the tone was one of total surprise. as if he could not understand why Hank would do it.

 

“You’ll feel more comfortable with it on.” 

 

Hank looked up and his mouth dropped, Gambit was beginning to strip off right in the middle of the med lab.

 

“Gambit?”

 

The younger man looked up.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“You want Gambit naked.”

 

Hank got up and pulled open one of the curtained off areas, “You can get changed behind there.”

 

The Cajun shrugged, collected his clothes, and walked into the cubical as Hank let the curtain fall back.

 

But it left McCoy thoughtful, it was like pieces of a jigsaw pictures, Gambit hated the med lab, and didn’t expect even the most common decency such as a gown, and he was stripping in the open, again as if he had done it before.  But what kind of doctor would allow or order that?  One thing was sure, it was an ingrained response, and he would have to be very careful during the examination.

 

It took longer than Hank had thought.  Getting blood from the Cajun had been near impossible, the minute he had gone near him with a needle he was off the examination table. It had taken a lot of coaxing before Gambit had allowed him to get it; the younger man had examined the syringe as if expecting some sort of trick.  When finally he had asked him to get dressed the doctor could see that Gambit was mentally exhausted.  But Hank felt that he had made some sort of break through with him, and was sure that Gambit would at least allow him to treat him in the future.

 

The nearer they got to the mission, the worse the nightmares became, as Essex came through at night in his sleep, showing him what would happen if he failed his master.

 

Warren and Hank exchanged looks as they met outside of Gambit’s door, the screaming had woken most of the people along that corridor, the only plus was that the students were in a different wing, and had remained undisturbed.  The yelling was continuing, like a soul in torment, then suddenly it stopped with a strangled croak.

 

Scott arrived a few minutes later, “This is going to end tomorrow, Hank.  I want you and Gambit in the War Room, we need to find out what’s going on with him.”  He hammered on the door.  “Gambit, Gambit,” when there was no answer, he tried the door, then stepped back and cut through the door lock with his eye blast and pushed it open.  Eyes searching for the Cajun X-Man, remembering what Warren had said, he moved round the bed, but the nest was empty and the window open.

 

Their Cajun was missing.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Gambit dropped lightly onto the grass below his second story window and then jogged round the side of the building.  The X-Men had good security, but nothing that he could not get round, now was the time to get out, get the information that Essex wanted and cut loose. 

 

Essex had shown him clearly what the X-Men would do to him if they found out he was a Marauder, they would kill him if he was lucky, if not, they would hand him over to the Police and the tender mercies of the Specials, and that would be a bullet in the back of his head, in an alleyway.  He would get the data, cut loose of Essex, and then get out of Dodge, get abroad, because he would not be able to return to New Orleans and the Antiquarian, not now.

 

Accessing the computer in the Med Lab had been easy, although he was barely literate, he had a good brain, keen intelligence and had worked out how the computer database worked, and the idiots didn’t even bother to protect it. 

 

Using the disc that Essex had prepared, he downloaded the data, and then was out of the Lab before anyone knew.

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Essex was waiting, his eyes flashing with anger, he lashed out, back handing Gambit across the face, sending him crashing into the examination table in the laboratory.

“Your job is not yet finished, you will go back to the Mansion and wait my further orders.

 

“Gambit finished with y’.”

 

“Really, do you really think so?”  Essex almost purred the words, as he telepathically struck the younger man, driving him to his knees as he increased the pain.  “You will only be free when I tell you.  Now you will go back and wait further orders.”

 

In agony Gambit dragged himself to his feet, and stumbled out.  Only then did a smile touch Essex’s face as he picked up the disc, turned it round in his hands, and then without looking at the data, broke it in half.  It had served its purpose, Gambit had broken the trust of the X-Men, he had taken the files that could be their death warrants, and if he tried to tell them why, he would be judged. 

 

Essex had isolated Gambit, and now all he had to do was wait for the other piece of the puzzle to arrive back at the Mansion, and his sources said that that person was currently heading back from Alaska.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

11 o’clock in the morning, Scott checked his watch for the second time, and tried to keep his annoyance from clouding his judgment, Gambit was late; he glanced at Hank, and saw the amusement on the doctor’s blue cheerful face.

 

“You like him don’t you Hank?”

 

“Our young Acadian is a very interesting person Scott, and he is fun, so yes, I like him.”

 

The door opened without knocking, and Gambit came in, dark glasses covering his eyes, he dropped into one of the chairs and took a pull on his cigarette.

 

Scott took a steadying breath.  “Gambit put that out now, you know the rules.”

 

The Cajun hooked a finger over his dark glasses and eased them down slightly so he could look over them, his lips pulled back into a sardonic smile,

 

“Bouchee moi.”  He snarled back and blew out a plume of smoke in Scott’s direction.

 

Scott shook his head; he had had an idea it was going to go this way. “Okay Hank what did he say that time?”  He had noticed that when Gambit was on slow simmer or getting ready to blow, he would lapse into his first language, Cajun French, and since he didn’t think to repeat the comment in English, it made it hard to understand him.

 

“Er... bite me.”

 

“The cigarette Gambit,” as leader of the X-Men, he could not let that go.

 

So he reached out to take it off the other man, only to have it flicked straight at his head.  He pulled back as it exploded, scattering ash all over him.  Even as he had done that Gambit was on his feet and starting to leave.  Scott caught his arm, and pulled him back into the chair, it rocked back under his weight, and Scot had to catch it to stop it toppling over.

 

The angry burst of Cajun French had Hank scratching his head.

 

 “Right, Parler I idiot Anglois.”  He knew that he might have pronounced it wrong, but the effect was that Gambit came out of the chair, pushing him backwards and was right in his face.

 

“Speak English Idiot!  Y’ t’ink dat Gambit an idiot?”

 

“Well your acting like one Gambit, now.”

 

“Vous voulez un morceau da moi.”

 

Hank cut in quickly, “Gambit, no one wants a piece of you; now calm down my volatile Acadian friend.” 

 

For someone his size, McCoy moved with lightening speed, catching and trapping the Cajun before he could launch the glowing card he saw magically appear in Gambit’s hand, in the struggle the card fell free and blew a hole in the floor. Scott had thrown himself away from it, and got up quickly to check on the other two men. 

 

Hank had pulled Gambit clear, and was getting up.  Using his considerable strength to keep a firm grip on Gambit by the scruff of his ever-present duster he dragged him out of the office and down the corridor to the one place it would be safe from him to vent.  He threw him into the danger room and sealed him in.  The door rocked from explosions.

 

Hank shrugged as he turned to Scott, “Let him blow off a little steam Slim,” the affectionate nickname dated from his first meeting with Scott Summers.

 

“He’s...” Scott trailed off.

 

“I know, but look at the fun side.”

 

“Which is?”

 

Hank grinned, “Wait until he meets Wolverine, that is going to be sooooo much fun.”

 

Scott smiled for the first time, “My moneys on the Wolverine.”

 

“Double or quits?”

 

“You’re on.”  The leader of the X-Men winced as the room shuddered, “Do you know how many packs of cards he had on him?”

 

“In that coat, at least five.”

 

“We’re in for a long day.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

**Part Five**

Two nights later

 

Warren stood on the building a block from their target, his white wings flexing as he waited for his partner to finish the checks.

 

It was startling to find those eerie red on black eyes fixed on him as the Cajun waited for the countdown to start.

 

Warren watched as the other man turned, facing away from him hands up over his head.  With a powerful downbeat of his wings, he lifted into the air, reached down, caught the Cajun’s wrists, and took him up in the air.

 

“Keep looking up Gambit, you’re doing fine.”  Warren kept up a flow of talk.  Once in position, he adjusted his grip, increased his speed, at the last moment pulling up, momentum throwing the Cajun forward, he cleared the hardware that could have pinned him like a moth to a cork board.  Gambit somersaulted, then landed in a forward roll, the momentum bringing him to his feet.

 

He was in; quick strides took him to his entrance into the building.  The tips of his fingers ran over the edge of the central heating vent, he detected the sensors just as he expected, and began to work on isolating them so they formed a feed back loop, only then did he blow the cover off the central heating duct and enter.

 

In his mind he carried a map of the building, his hands moving along the smooth metal surface, counting off the welded sections every time he found the join.  Now came the hardest part, there was a vertical section for two floors down to the level he wanted.  Bracing himself, his muscles screaming in protest as he inched his way slowly  down the metal shaft.

 

Suddenly there was a blast of hot air that took his breath away, his lungs felt they were on fire, and he fell. He tried to stop his decent, he felt the palm of his leather glove tear and the skin burn, he slowed, but not enough and he landed hard.  Blackness threatened to engulf him and he had to fight it back.  He looked at his hand as blood began to seep from the injury, he dug out a pack from his pocket and tore it open, sealing the wound, so not to leave any blood which could be traced back to him. 

 

He crawled along the narrower ducting that ran the length of the floor to the room he wanted, then removed the grilling, checking again for sensors.  There were none, so he eased through the opening and then looked round.  His red eyes, perfectly suited to the night, flicked round the room, only one security camera, covering the main entrance to the office. Content, he dropped to the floor and started towards the computer, when the lights came on.

 

Blinded as the lights burned his light sensitive eyes, Gambit threw his hand up to shield his face, even a voice spoke, the tone of the Cajun accent unmistakable, but lighter and more refined.

“Salute Le Diablo Blanc.  Long time since we met.” 

 

Through blurred eyes Gambit saw the man, or rather the long brown trench coat, and that could only mean one thing, the Thieves Guild.  He focused and made out Henri LeBeau, son and heir of the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild, flanked by his bodyguards.

 

“Thank you Dr. Franklin,” he addressed the older man by his side, he kept it polite because this man had given him what he wanted, Gambit the White Devil, but he felt nothing but contempt for what the man stood for.  “For your help in this matter, we will remove this street trash for you.”  When he saw that the man was going to protest he added, his tone hard, indicating that it was going to happen his way and no one else’s.  “Remember our deal Doctor.”

 

Warren could hear the exchange through his headset; he circled round and unhooked the energy weapon. He had had to stop himself from calling out to Gambit when he had heard him fall, but he knew that he could not break the other man’s concentration.  They had practiced an emergency evacuation in training, and it looked like they would have to do it for real. 

 

“Gambit, count to ten and then bail out.”

 

LeBeau fired as he saw Gambit’s hand move, the bullet threw the Cajun X-Man backwards, over and behind a desk.  Too late Henri realized that the younger man had grabbed a small printer as he went over backwards.

 

It arched towards them, glowing with bio-kinetic energy.  The men barely had time to escape as the explosion devastated that part of the building, taking down internal walls and blasting fire from the windows. 

 

Gambit didn’t hesitate, he jumped as the window in front of him exploded, the fire chasing him as he dropped clear, plummeting the 60 floors toward the ground, only to be caught in mid-air by Warren.

 

“Merci Wings,” the voice had a catch to it that Angel hadn’t heard before, then the body went limp in his hands. 

 

Warren hugged the man close to him; below them the emergency vehicle’s sirens could be heard as flames lit up the night sky.

Over the headphone he contracted Bobby who was running backup for them, the van was in place when they landed, and between them they got Gambit into the back of it.

 

Bobby already had the first aid kit open, the bullet had hit Kevlar and not penetrated, but Gambit was ice cold, and Bobby knew cold.  Looking up his voice betrayed his fear, “he’s suffering from hypothermia.”

 

“Shit,” Warren snapped and stripped off his own coat, wrapping it round the Cajun, “We have to get him warm, and now.”

 

“The Mansion, I could fly...”

 

“No, too far,” Bobby nodded to himself, “My house, it’s only a few minutes from here.”

 

“But...”

 

“Their help, you drive, now go on.” 

 

Bobby began to try and rub heat into the Cajun’s arms and legs, than pulled him upright so, the Cajun’s head resting on his shoulder.  He began to rub his back, using his own body heat to help warm him up, but he knew that he needed more than that, he called out “Warren put your foot down man, we’re on the clock here.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Mrs. Drake had been shocked when her son had become a mutant.  The way she talked sometimes, her husband mused, it was as if Bobby had decided to join a political party or country club, not that in fact he had had no choice in the matter.

 

Bobby would come home at the weekends, but never brought any friends.  That was their little deal, Bobby would never bring any of the freaks home with him, he could pass as normal, and they would not want the neighbors to know that he went to a school with them.

 

The knock on the door late at night brought Mr. Frank Drake to the door.  “Bobby,” he trailed off as he saw that his son had his arm round another young man that was hanging limply in his arms,  “Help me dad, he’s hurt.”

 

Frank’s eyes went wide as Warren followed them in, his mouth dropped open at the wings.

 

“Bo Bobby,” he stuttered.

 

“Sorry Dad, this is Warren, he’s a good friend.” 

 

Mr. Drake accepted and shook hands, still too stunned to realize what he was doing.  “Wings,” he muttered.  Warren just nodded, the man would get over it shortly, they usually did.

 

“Dad,” he repeated it, “Dad!  We have to get Gambit warm, he’s freezing.”

 

“Bobby did you?”  His mother voice cut in as she came down the stair.

 

“No Mom, it was an accident.” 

 

She disappeared and returned with an electric blanket.  Plugging it in, she watched as her son and his friend laid the other man on the sofa and covered him with the blanket.  Bobby was watching him carefully, “He used his powers and I think he drained himself. Mom could you make some hot coffee, and I’ll see if I can get that into him.”

 

Mrs. Drake might have had her views, and she might like to pretend that everything was normal but she could not turn her back on someone hurting, one look at the blue lips and the pale face, and she hurried to make some hot chocolate. When she returned the young man was waking up, his eyes opened then closed on the third attempted they stayed open, and she found herself looking into the most amazing eyes. She swallowed hard, but instead of pulling back, she supported Gambits head as she coaxed him to drink.  He was shivering violently so much so she had to hold the cup, when he had finished she lowered him back down onto the sofa.

 

A little color was returning, and his core temperature was slowly rising.  Warren meanwhile looked out the window, soon it would be dawn and without his image enhancer he would be in trouble. But if he left now it would still be dark enough for him to fly back to the mansion. His mind made up he said. “I’d best go, you can bring him in the van, I’ll make sure that Hank is expecting him.” Warren gave a nod towards the door he needed to talk away from Bobby’s parents.

 

“Are you sure your going to be okay here with Gambit, he’s pretty much out of it”.

 

Bobby looked back to the Cajun, “Moving him is out of the question at the moment, we need to get his temperature back to normal first. I’ll get him back to the mansion as soon as possible”.  Bobby paused, “What went wrong back there”.

 

“Some one tipped them off.” Warren didn’t offer any more information, he needed to talk to Gambit first and that could only be done later at the mansion.

 

Warren rose majestically into the air, and was soon lost in the night sky, turning back to his home Bobby focused on helping his team mate, the quick the Cajun recovered the quicker they could return to the mansion, and he might get a few more answers.

 

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

**Part Six**

 

Three days later Logan was back from Alaska.

 

Wolverine was still a little blank on how he had joined the X-Men, but he accepted that this was a better way to make a difference rather than continue killing for hire.  His time held prisoner by Dr. Essex was left nothing but large holes in his memory, but there was a trace of something he remembered, a scent, and a face.  Handsome and young, he couldn’t have been more than 23, and full of so much pain, each time he dreamed, this was the face Wolverine saw, it was the only thing that could calm the night terrors.

 

Logan was walking through the grounds, needing to reestablish his territory before he went back inside to join the others.  He nodded to some of the students that he recognized, getting the odd smile and ‘hi’ in return, others giving him a wide berth, scared of the legendary Wolveine.

 

Not that Logan minded, as he was more comfortable with his own company.

 

He inhaled on the cigar that he was smoking.  At five foot five, Logan was small compared to some of the other X-Men, but he was powerfully built.  His hair was dark and covered most of his body, mutton chop whiskers framed his face, and his dark mane always ended up in the same style, two wings of hair sweeping back from his temples.  His hazel eyes were intelligent and could flash with humor, or a killing rage.  When he went feral, his lips would pull back over elongated canine teeth, giving him a more animalistic look, as his eye coloring changed to yellow.  He took after his code name, the  Wolverine, a killer, it was completely unstoppable, pound for pound the most dangerous animal in the woods.. 

 

He was entering the house when he caught a scent.  His head went up and he inhaled deeply, filtering out the scent of the cigar. 

 

The students got out of the way, they had learned quickly that Logan was the unstoppable force; you either got out of the way or got run over, as he ran through the corridors.

 

Scott was monitoring the training session; this was the first one since Bobby had returned with a Cajun Popsicle in tow.

 

Just then the door opened and Wolverine charged in.  As the Cajun somersaulted from the lower beam, without even the slightest loss of balance he landed with the agility of a cat he had the Bo-staff held in front of him.

 

If he was surprised to see Weapon X in front of him it slowed him only for a second, he knew that he had to get out of there, and to do so he had to go through him.

 

Gambit swung at the feral Wolverine, which gained him a few seconds, enough time to fire a pack of card into the snarling face, which drove him backwards.

 

The Cajun pushed home his momentary advantage, using his Bo-staff to vault up and kick him in the face.  Then he was off and running, his mission forgotten, he had to get clear of the Mansion. Wolverine would slice and dice him.

 

Gambit bounced off the wall as he took the corner too  fast, and leaping up the steps to the upper level two at a time, his long legs eating up the distance.  He crashed through the door without breaking stride. 

 

He blew the French doors open, his foot hitting the top of the balcony and he was leaping into the air.  He forward somersaulted, landed on the grass, forward rolled to kill the speed and then was up and running. 

 

Logan was on his feet and in chase, pushing past anyone that got in his way, ignoring the yells from his fellow X-Men.  All he knew was that he had a Marauder to stop.

Only his unique senses saved him as he swerved to avoid a lightening bolt that just missed him and tore up the lawn.

 

“Logan, I can’t let you hurt Gambit.”

 

“Fuck it Ro, I don’t have time for this,” he yelled up at the flying weather goddess.

 

“Gambit is an X-Man, you...”

 

“He’s a fucking Marauder darlin’, that’s what he is.”  He saw the shock on her face and took up the chase again.  He was aware of Ororo climbing high into the sky, than another lightening bolt speared down, but this time striking in the trees where she had seen Gambit.  Another followed as she began to drive him back towards where she had last seen Logan enter the forest, than both men were lost from her view.

 

All that Gambit knew was he was being forced back towards the Mansion, as lightening had brought trees crashing down round him.  At least they were now lost to sight, it was then he was hit hard and taken down to the ground, the air crushed from his body. 

 

Wolverine was on top of him, one hand pressed to his chest, the other had two claws out, one either side of his face, the middle claw pressed against the underside of his chin, just pricking his flesh.

 

“Quit it bud, or I’ll gut you,” he snarled.

 

Wolverine looked down into the younger man’s face and the red on black eyes.  It was this scent that had sent him on the search and destroy mission, but for the first time he actually seemed to see the man he had trapped.

 

At the back of his mind something began to take shape, Wolverine’s eyes crinkled and then he bent down and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent, savoring it.  Under his hand on the younger man’s chest he could feel the armor and by extending his senses, the pounding of his prey’s heart.

 

Gambit put his hand up, resting it against the feral man’s belt buckle, and charged it. 

 

The explosion sent the man flying backward, and the center claw popped, just missing the underside of the Cajun’s chin.  As  it carved a groove along his jaw?

 

The feral Wolverine came up snarling, his chest and stomach burned; his prey was already back on his feet.

 

The Cajun was running fast for the wall, but he knew that he was not going to make it, the moment he tried to get over it he would be caught. 

 

Using the Bo-staff he vaulted up and flipped over the head of the chasing Wolverine.  He twisted violently to avoid the claws, but his luck was out, they sliced into his side and leg. When he landed Gambit bit back a cry of pain and stumbled, his leg giving out, and Wolverine was on him, slamming him to the ground.  A clawed fist lashed down at his face, at the last second the claws retracted, and only the fist knocked the Cajun out.

 

Bending low, Wolverine gathered the fallen Cajun into his arms, his growl becoming a rough purr as he scented the man.  He remembered it! 

 

Reaching out he touched the younger man’s face; the auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail, held back by a Kevlar hair band. Wolverine jerked it down, a claw sliced through the band, and the hair fell free, framing Gambit’s face.  With his thumb Wolverine brushed the blood away from the jaw cut, it was not deep.

 

As Scott caught up with them, he backed off as he heard the distinct SNIKT of one set of claws, as Wolverine bared his teeth, protecting what was now his.  He recognized Scott as the pack leader of the X-Men, but in this he would not yield, he had caught him, and he would keep him. 

 

With a silent apology, Scott fired the dart gun.  It took three darts to put Wolverine down, and then it only dropped him a scant three feet from Scott Summers.  It would not keep the feral man down for long, but long enough to part him from his prize.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Charles Xavier was looking at Logan, correction, the feral Wolverine.  He had come around about half an hour ago, and instead of being the man, it was still the feral, and he had already destroyed the bed, and was now slashing the holding cell to pieces. 

 

Xavier had tried to make a connection with Wolverine, but the animalistic emotions were too primal for him to hold onto.  All he could feel was the burning need for Wolverine to get to the Cajun. There was some connection between the two of them, and Charles had to find out what it was.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

 

**Part Seven**

Charles Xavier picked up the phone and began to dial.  The feral side of Wolverine was fairly unique, and the fact that he could control it so well was different from other feral mutants like Sabertooth, who could barely exist outside the feral state.

 

“Dr. Blair Sandburg,” the man sounded younger than Charles had imagined, but he was the leading expert on a genetic throwback to pre-civilized times, a human with five enhanced senses, Sentinels, the first mutants to ever be found.  But Sandburg had also discovered the feral Sentinel, the most primal of their kind, and he might be able to help with Wolverine.

 

The doctor spoke of a bonding between primal Sentinel and his Guide, an empath that could help control both the senses and the feral nature.  And that if the primal Wolverine was after this other person, than he had to be an empath.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Logan sat up and looked round him at the destruction in the holding cell, and met Scott’s gaze levelly, “You the one that darted me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“About time, where’s the kid?”

 

“In the Med Lab.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Logan entered the Lab, walked over to the examination table, and looked down at the Marauder.  Now he remembered him, the kid had been trying to help him escape from Essex.

 

It would have shocked anyone that knew Wolverine to see the way that he put a hand out and lightly stroked the fine features with the tips of his fingers, careful not to wake the sleeping man.  He had heard about the injuries from Hank.  Those he had inflicted, he was pleased to hear, would leave no lingering damage. 

 

But what now concerned Logan was the kid was an empath, he knew that now, and an empath could go insane if they lacked human contact.  They needed someone to shield them, to stop them overloading. He has no illusions, Gambit was a Marauder, more than likely sleeping around, doing anything, to get into a bed with a partner that would shield him.  Sabertooth was a strong shield, and looking at the medical report he could see that he exacted a price for it; abuse, no one would put up with the damage he had inflicted unless they had no choice.  The thought of another feral laying claim to what he considered his, made Wolverine want to roar his challenge from the roof of the Mansion.  Gambit was his and no one would take him away.

 

00-0-0-0

 

While Logan was with Gambit, Scott was called to Xavier’s office to be brought up to speed on the latest development.  “It appears that a feral like Logan needs a keeper, or ‘Guide’ to help him remain stable and to bring him out of the feral state, and for that he needs Gambit.”

 

“He’s a Marauder Professor, with great respect, he is here for a reason.”

 

“Logan had already connected with him, if what Dr. Sandburg has said is correct, no other empath can take over, it’s Gambit or nothing.”

 

“I don’t like this.”

 

“You don’t have to Scott, once connected, Gambit will not be able to run, he will need Logan to help him maintain his empathic barriers, they are exceptionally strong, but he still needs to let them go and know that he won’t overload.  It’s time for Hank to let Gambit come round; and I need to talk to him.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Charles looked at Gambit over steeped fingers, the younger man was collared to prevent him using his powers, and he looked pale and was in pain.  “Why did you come here Gambit?”

 

The Cajun made no attempt to answer he just looked past him and out of the window.

He would bide his time and then escape, if he gave Essex over to them he was as good as dead.

 

“Gambit,” Charles said the name sharply as a telepathic blast, he felt the young man shudder and the walls round his mind became stronger. “I don’t want to hurt you, but you have to talk to me,” the voice was now softer. “You’re a Marauder, why are you here?”

 

There was a long silence, “Information, he wanted information.”

 

“Who?” Charles leaned forward was he finally to get the name of the man behind the Marauders.

 

Gambit was silent again.

 

“So you can’t tell us, or won’t,” Charles felt the fear that edged the man’s mind, this person had hurt him, and hurt him badly. There were scars on the barriers that he could sense, from telepathic bolts and strikes, someone had mind raped this child.

 

“What information did he want?”

 

“Data on y’”

 

“And?”

 

“Gave him what he wanted, he don’t use it, he destroyed de disc, Gambit know dat, den he orduh Gambit back.”

 

Charles was about to say something, than paused, “You gave him the wrong information,” he had picked up the thought, “didn’t you?”

 

“Oui,”

 

“What if he had checked the disc?”

 

“Antiquarian owns Gambit, not him.”

 

Charles heard the bitterness in his voice, “So you think he would not have killed you?”

 

“Pain is only Pain.”  Gambit’s voice sounded very old.

 

Charles paused and made his choice  “there is a war coming, and your talents will be of great assistance to the X-Men, you have a home here Gambit.”

 

“I am a Marauder.”

  
”Were, you’re an X-Man now, and you said that you gave him the wrong information. You have not betrayed us, so join with us.”

 

“De othuh’s.”

 

“Only Ro, Scott and Hank know, no one else.”

 

“You’re an empath Gambit, we can help you here, let us.”

 

Leaving the younger man thinking, he pressed the intercom.

 

“Logan.”

 

Gambit turned smoothly as the door opened and Logan walked in.

 

“Logan, Gambit will be joining us, he’s the empath that I told you about,” a smile quirked the Professor’s lips. “I believe you gentlemen have a lot to discuss.”

 

“I think I can leave removing his collar to you Logan.”

 

0-0-0-0-0-0

 

**Part Eight**

The Professor had moved Logan to a corner room in the Mansion; it had easy access to the grounds but was shielded from the rest of the school.  Joined to it was Gambit’s new room, with an internal access, so that feral and Guide could be close to each other.   The moment they stepped into the room, the sourness of the Cajun’s scent got worse; it was that sharp that Logan was nearly choking on it.

 

He had heard about what had happened in the showers and only just managed to stop from gutting the two other X-Men.  They had hurt Gambit and there was only one answer to that, but his friendship stayed his hand.  But it answered his questions. 

 

Logan walked near the empath, the idea of having a ‘Guide’ for want of a better word was galling to him. He had needed no one, but the truth was the feral rages were getting more and more frequent, and if Gambit gave him stability, then so be it.

 

He could smell fear on the younger man, souring his scent.

 

His Guide could not fear him, and this had to be addressed straight away.  Never one for tact Logan pressed Gambit into a chair and then straddled the one opposite him and met the black and red eyes levelly.  “How many times have you been raped because of your empathy?” Logan put in bluntly.

 

“Gambit!”  Logan prompted him.

 

The Cajun shivered, empathy or ‘Charm’, it was the same thing, it had saved his life but it had also caused him just as much pain.  He hesitated to answer and see the disgust in the man’s face. If Wolverine knew he would not want to shield him, or if he did, he would want him to pay a price, they always did. He just shook his head.

 

To Logan that headshake spoke volumes.

 

Gambit pulled out a cigarette and then tried to find a light.  With the inhibitor collar on he couldn’t use his powers to do it.

 

He flinched when Logan was suddenly leaning in front of him; then he popped one claw and sliced through the collar.

 

“Merci.” 

 

The Cajun felt safer now he had his powers back, he lit the cigarette with his fingertip, and inhaled the smoke.

 

“Lower them kid,” Logan said as he saw the look of fear on the other’s face, “trust me.”

 

From his jeans Logan dug out a pack of cards and tossed them to Gambit.

 

The younger man clutched them like his only lifeline, and then like a head rush it hit Logan, the pheromones threatening to overwhelm him.

 

He could feel Gambit watching him closely.

 

“Its okay Cajun, I am not going to jump your bones,” the older man took a deep breath.

 

“You’re safe”  He reached a hand out, and slowly Gambit inched closer.  What hit Logan was how could anyone harm the Cajun; there was just something about him that called out to be care for and cherish. 

 

Once he felt the slender fingers touch his hand, he carefully closed his hand round them, and coaxed the younger man onto his feet, and guided him towards the sofa. He felt the panic. 

 

“I am not going to hurt you Gambit,” he gave a gentle tug, encouraging the younger man not to pull back and resist.  They had to do this. “This is bonding kid, not sex okay?”

 

“Oui.” But there was no conviction in that one word.

 

Time seemed to stand still, as slowly Gambit eased down, allowing an arm round his waist to pull him close, and then when Logan’s hand guided the Cajun’s head on to his shoulder, the younger man didn’t fight it.

 

Logan gasped as he felt the brush of the empath across his mind; it was like a gentle caress to start with, but he was also aware of the burning sexual nature of the charm that the kid was broadcasting, it became so raw it was like mainlining lightening now as it gained in intensity. 

 

Carefully, as the Xavier had taught him, he raised his own formidable  mental barriers so they cocooned Gambit.  Pheromones stopped leaking out, as the younger man was no longer broadcasting the strongly sexual Charm factor.  Logan kept a firm hold, but the Cajun relaxed as for the first time he felt a proper shielding.  At the moment the connection was still fragile, but later Gambit would be able to slide in and out of Logan’s mind at will, to give, and to receive support. 

 

Now connected, Logan could hear Gambit in his head. The words in Cajun French he didn’t understand, but the feeling behind them he did.  The kid was singing softly to himself, as for the first time he felt unconditional acceptance from his sentinel,

.

 

Logan flinched as he felt slender, elegant fingers touch his face, tracing down his jaw, as the kid began to explore. He could feel that Gambit was unsure if his touch was welcome, so Logan kept still only claiming the hand when it went too far.

 

“No,” he put in firmly and tugged the hand back to rest on his chest.  “No price. You’re my Guide, kid.” He paused then added as he suddenly realized that touch was something that had been denied Gambit.

 

For that reason he realized that he had to put it into words for the Cajun, make sure he understood. “Never be frightened of touching me, if that is what you want.”  The Canadian paused and lightly tugged one of the bangs framing Gambits face letting the back of his fingers brush his face. “You okay with this kid”. It was a loaded question Gambit yearned to touch and be touched but was too scared to ask, by saying yes, he would give Logan permission to touch him.

 

“Bien, its bien.”

 

Gambit felt his eyes closing for the first time it seemed in his life that he could sleep without being afraid he would be hurt.

 

As Logan felt the taller Cajun go limp in his arms, he shook his head trying to deny his feelings, but could not keep the pretense up, he had his Guide, the keeper of his soul, and that was all that mattered, and if Essex thought he could take him, then he would have to go through Wolverine first.

 

Outside the Mansion Henri LeBeau checked the security system; it was good, too good for civilians.  Gambit had upgraded it, but hell or high water, he would get the Antiquarian’s pet, and the man would suffer for what he had done.

 

Henri tapped the driver’s shoulder and the car pulled off into the night.


	2. Brother Hood of the Dark Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Gambit and The Wolverine now bonded, life seems set. Until Gambits past comes back to haunt him and the Thieves Guide of New Orleans comes hunting.

Xavier’s School for the gifted had gained a new student.  It was general knowledge that the new student had come in after being discovered by Detective Paul Taylor and his wife; he wasn’t the first and certainly would not be the last. 

 

But what only a few people were privy to was just exactly what had happened since his arrival, the fact that he had been planted at the School to steal information for Dr. Essex, a powerful mutant who’s views on Human and Mutant co-existence differed vastly from those of Professor Charles Xavier.

 

Gambit gave no other name; he was a six foot 2, rangy Cajun, with long auburn hair, and dangerous good looks.  Only 23 years old, but it had been a hard life, and one that had left him with a crippled sense of trust, a loner, he was not a team player, something that the X-Men were now trying to change.

 

 

Unlike most mutants, Gambit had three mutations. He was classed as Alpha, but Xavier was now beginning to believe that he might be an Omega mutant, one of only a handful in the world.  His first and most obvious mutation was his eyes, red on black, and light sensitive.  He had excellent night vision, but so far they had been unable to test his day vision or his ability to see color, usually he wore dark glasses to hide and protect them from the bright glare of the sun.

 

His second mutation was his ability to charm people into doing what he wanted, a gift that had blown up in his face, leaving him bleeding in the alleyways of New Orleans, his home town.  Now known to be empathic, he had been teamed with the resident feral Canadian in an attempt to help shield him. The Professor had been impressed with Gambit’s mental shields, because he had been unable to read the younger man.

 

His final mutation was the most devastating. He could charge an inanimate object with a biokinetic energy that, depending on the amount of power used, could bring a building down.  His favorite weapon of choice was a pack of charged playing cards.  Unlike some mutants, Gambit didn’t just rely on his powers. He was agile as a cat and a formidable fighter, using a Bo-staff to defend himself.

 

 

Logan fingered the gold card that Charles had given him, with firm instructions to get Gambit some things. The Professor knew that if the younger man was going to settle down they had to start his nesting instinct, make the mansion his home.

 

The five foot five, stockily built Canadian leaned against the side of the display window. The two men were as different as chalk and cheese, but Logan had recognized the Cajun as his Guide.  At the time he had not understood the term, or understood the need, just that the Cajun ex-Marauder, one of Dr. Essex’s men, was as important to him as breathing.

 

As an empath, Gambit needed to be able to lower his barriers, and in the past he had paid a price for the shielding he had needed. A price that Logan had seen in the scars, both physical and mental, that the younger man carried.

 

In return for Logan’s shielding, Gambit gave him peace of mind. He could control the feral side of his nature, so he saw it as a mutual need.  Also his need to protect and cherish Gambit was becoming stronger, and that was worrying him on his human side, where as the feral part of his nature embraced that possessive need.

 

The older man watched as his Guide looked through the window of the clothing shop and took a mental deep breath. He got the idea that a few flannel shirts and jeans were not going to be on the shopping list, the kid was already eyeing up the GQ clothes. This, he mused, from someone who’s prize possession was a full length black duster that had seen better days, and which he wore all the time. The kid almost needed surgery to remove it from him. 

 

Setting his shoulders Logan followed him in.

 

Half an hour later he was ready to shred someone with his claws, if that assistant had asked, nod nod, wink wink, one more time about what his significant other would like, he was going to claw the man into carrot sticks.  And of course the kid had played along, winding one arm round him, calling him ‘cher’ and plastering himself against him. 

 

With a huff Logan collected the parcels, and then trailed the Cajun to one of the other shops. Charles had insisted that the younger man get music and books, so that he could make the room his home.  He had understood and explained to Logan that as someone trained by the Thieves Guild, they could not force Gambit to stay, unless they kept him in an inhibitor collar.  Better that Gambit stay because he wanted to. 

 

Although too old for some of the classes, Xavier had still been confident that he could get the younger man to take some of them, and as all his X-Men taught some classes,  he was beginning to believe that Gambit might be suitable as a Student Councilor. He was young enough to connect with the students, and having lived on the street, he could understand them. Also the students were more likely to confide with him.  The Professor still had nightmares about the time that he had talked Logan into teaching Sex Education 101 when Jean had been away. 

 

He had penciled Gambit in. He just had to speak to him about it, but he didn’t want to spook him. So far the Cajun had not even given them his real name, using only his street name, but that would come with time.

 

Gritting his teeth, Logan followed the younger man into the music shop; the kid was flicking through the CD’s and came up holding the four that Charles had allowed him.  Logan tried not to cringe at the thought that, as his roommate, he was going to get to hear them up close and personal.

 

Finally, shopping done, he shepherded his charge back to the jeep, the kid talking a mile a minute in his mixture of English and Cajun French.

 

In the distance the Thieves Guild informer pulled out his cell phone.

 

0-0-0-

 

The music was pumping out full volume the fast jaunty accordion music that was pure Cajun, Logan pushed the door open to find his resident Cajun moving to the music and singing to his heart’s content.

 

He y yaie, chere jolie

Toi, catin, gardez done

Moi jsuis la dans les miseres

Joli je peux pas tavoir

Moi je peux plus dormir le soir

 

 

The song was Jolie Catin, even Logan recognized it as one of the Classic Cajun songs, and resigned himself to hearing more soon.

 

“Come on Gumbo, training time.”

 

With one last graceful twirl Gambit picked up his black duster, pulling it on, his hand automatically checking on the packs of cards. “Ready when you are Cher.”

 

 

Logan rolled his eyes, “You know kid, other people have Guides that are well-mannered, shy and retiring, and...”

 

“But y’ wanted Gambit.” He smiled knowing it was the truth.

 

The older man pulled the door open and jerked a thumb towards the corridor. Why did he get the feeling that this was someone’s idea of a cosmic joke.

 

0-0-0-0

 

The Danger Room (training facility)

 

Gambit landed from the drop kick and already had a fan of glowing cards in his hand; he launched them with great accuracy at the approaching paramilitaries, then dived out of the way of a burst of gunfire, and was back in the ruins again.

 

The deadly game of hide-and-seek continued, his progress being monitored from the control room.

 

Scott glanced across at Logan, “He’s good you know, really good.”

 

“The kid’s a natural, he’s got good speed and the agility of a cat,” Logan looked at Hank McCoy, “might want to check that when you do the DNA check on him, he’s got the scent of feral on him.”  When he saw Hank raise an eyebrow he just tapped his nose, “smelt it the first time I met him.”

 

Gambit came out of the flick flack exactly at the right moment, his feet thudding into the face of the nearest thug.  As he went down he avoided the swing of a baseball bat, hitting the floor. Gambit swung so he took the man down from a blow behind the leg, then an elbow to the throat left his attacker out cold.

 

Hearing the ‘snitk’ Scott looked across at Logan, the Canadian was watching the Cajun’s every move, but the slow flexing of the claws told their own story.  The Canadian was not happy; he would have preferred to have been down there protecting his Guide.  But this was Gambit’s assessment, not his.

 

“Don’t worry Logan, he passed about five minutes ago.”

 

“Then why?”

 

“To see what he’s capable of, you’re lucky to have him.”  Scott leaned forward, “deactivating the program Gambit,” he gave the warning and shut down, and the attackers disappeared, leaving only an empty room.

 

The Cajun was leaning on his Bo-staff; the workout had been a good one.

 

He fished out a cigarette and lit it with his finger, a trick he had been doing since he was ten, and inhaled the smoke, savoring it before letting it out in a plume.

 

Watching as Scott Summers and Logan approached him, his red on black eyes flashed as he saw older man reach out towards him.  He flicked the cigarette up and it exploded like a firecracker in front of Logan’s face, a warning not to attempt to touch him in front of the X-Men leader.

 

“Congratulations, you passed your evaluation.”  Scott made sure that Gambit could see that he was pleased.

The Professor had made some rather telling comments about the Cajun, the most important one being Gambit needed to be brought into the X-Men family.  Xavier was unable to breech the Cajun’s shields, to do so would be to mind rape the younger man, and that was never an option, but he’d gotten some ideas of his emotions.

 

“Gambit thought he had already passed de test?”

 

“If an X-Man is injured he has to have an evaluation before he can go active again.”  Scott saw the way that Logan’s eyes never left the Cajun.

 

“Logan, the Professor wants to see you.”

 

“Now you tell me, Cyke.”

 

“That’s what he said, once Gambit passed he wanted you in his office.”

 

Reluctantly Logan pulled himself away from his Guide; the possessive need to be with him was getting stronger.

 

Once he was sure that the Canadian was out of earshot even for him, Scott asked. “Are you all right Gambit?  If Logan’s hurt you, I need to know.”

 

“Gambit bien Cyke.”

 

“The names Scott,” Cyclops put in firmly. “Do we still call you Gambit?”  It was a gentle invite for the Cajun to give him his real name. For a moment Scott saw the look, the younger man was unsure, then he looked down and nodded

 his head.

 

“Gambit don’t have a name.”  He looked up. “Call mon, Gambit or Le Diablo Blanc.”  He trailed off.

 

“White Devil,” Scott translated. “Why?”

 

The reply made the X-Man leader start.  It was a laugh, bitter. “De Devil eyes, Cykes, no one wants de demon, unless dey want to spice up de bed or have something stolen.” There was a bitter mocking to the Cajun’s voice, and for a split second, Scott saw hurt.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Logan understood what the Professor was telling him, he had already felt there was a problem with his bond to the younger man, but that didn’t mean that he liked the idea of Dr. Sandburg coming to help him.  He would have preferred for nature to take its course. Drag the Cajun somewhere quiet, away from all these people, and then bond, long and slow, with only the sky above their heads.  Somewhere the Wolverine could show Gambit the he could provide for him, protect him.  Winter was coming, and he had to make sure his Guide understood the even if food became short he could keep him fed. In return he would receive the commitment of the bond from the younger man.  But the Professor had ruled that out and informed him that unless the bond settled he would have to call Dr. Sandburg to Westchester.  So it was a thoughtful Wolverine that left the office.

 

Coming out of the study he saw his Guide speaking to a group of students, his eyes narrowed as one of the females put a hand on his Guide’s arm, leaning into him, rubbing her scent on him.  Wolverine strode forward, his face like thunder.

 

Gambit turned as he felt Logan approach, his spatial awareness alerting him.  With a soft promise of meeting later he took off down the corridor to draw the Canadian away from them.  Once clear of the other students he turned on Wolverine.

 

 “Look Homme, Gambit is bien dat y’ like bein wi’t him.  Mais de femmes want Gambit on his own.”

 

Wolverine growled at him.

 

“Back off!”  Gambit snarled back.

 

Wolverine had had enough of all this and tried to grab his wayward Guide.  But Gambit ducked back and threw a handful of low charged cards at their feet, forcing the feral X-Man back.

 

“Cool it Homme, Gambit be back soon.”

 

The Cajun pointedly turned on his heel and started back down the corridor.  He heard only the slightest noise and twisted round, but Wolverine took him down hard.  Gambit landed heavily on his back as he tried to push the older man off.

 

“Get off him!”  Bobby dropped his sandwich and hit Logan with a blast of ice that knocked the feral X-Man off Gambit as Warren caught the Cajun’s arm and pulled him back to his feet.

 

Wolverine lunged back, only to hit a wall of ice that sealed the corridor from floor to ceiling.  Roaring his anger his claws carved into the ice, but Bobby was maintaining the wall, there was no way they could let him get through to them.  Over his shoulder he snapped, “Warren, get him the hell out of here.”

 

“Wolverine.”  Gambit started forward, the link between them coming alive, the need to help his partner kicking in, but Warren would not let him do that. 

 

Angel grabbed a handful of the Cajun’s duster, an arm round his waist, and took off, his wings brushing the sides of the walls.

 

“We need to get you to the Professor.”  Warren was not sure what he had seen back there, but Gambit had been moving right towards the claws, as if drawn like metal filings to a magnet.

 

Wolverine cut through the last of the ice, by then Bobby was already making good his escape.  Wolverine paused and lifted his head. Catching his Guide’s scent he was off and running, the feral creature tracking its prey.

 

He paused outside of the door to the Professor’s study.

 

“Come in Logan,” the voice ran clear in his head.

 

The Professor was behind his desk; he looked calm and unruffled at the thought of facing down Wolverine.

 

Gambit stood to one side, Warren on the other; the Cajun was shuffling a pack of cards, they moved smoothly between his fingers. It gave the first clue to Wolverine of his guides emotional state, Gambit was ready to fight not flee.

 

Wolverine started forward as the spicy scent of his Guide called him. 

 

It was not the sharp command of the Professor that stopped him, he barely recognized the words, it was the scent of fear that flooded off his mate.  He had frightened his Guide. Wolverine backed off and looked at Professor Xavier, suddenly it was as if a cooling breeze moved through his mind, calming him down, allowing Logan to come through.

 

Logan snarled, “Get out of my head Gumbo, now,” as he realized that Gambit was trying to influence him.

 

Charles Xavier put in, “let him help you Logan.”

 

But the Canadian slammed the mental door shut, forcing the Cajun out.

 

The breath caught in Charles’ throat, as he had to pull his barriers up high to shut out the searing sexual heat of the Cajun.

 

Warren found himself catching the Cajun and forcing him back against the wall as Gambit’s hand landed on his shoulder, the long slender fingers moving soothingly trying to defuse the situation.

 

Logan swore, “Charles, block Warren,” even as he did it, Logan moved to his Guide.  “It’s okay kid,” he reached a hand out and coaxed the Cajun to him, then pulling him close, opening his mind and allowing Gambit in, settling an arm round the taller man’s waist. 

 

The Cajun stank of pheromones, it was a clinging scent that swamped him, and he could even taste Gambit’s scent.  He had to concentrate just on his Guide.  In his mind he felt the other’s fear.

 

“What did I tell you kid,” he chided him gruffly as he raised a hand and lightly turned the Cajun’s face so that he was looking up into the red on black eyes.

 

“Y’ won’t hurt Gambit.”

 

“Right kid.”  Logan smelt the fear slowly begin to fade.

 

Charles could see that the problem had, for the moment, passed, the connection between the two men had activated again, but was still fledgling, it needed to be developed and then sealed. 

 

He was saw the look of horror on Warrens face that was quickly replaced by concern it pleased Charles that Warren’s main concern was that he hadn’t hurt the Cajun, when he had been under the influence of the Cajun’s empathy.  With his mentors help, he managed to raise his barriers higher. It was like taking a mental cold shower, his emotions were is own again.

 

“Warren, make sure that they get to their room, I have a phone call to make.”  He was going to have to see if Dr. Sandburg could come earlier than expected, the situation was starting to spiral out of control.

 

Talking softly to his Guide, Logan escorted him back to their rooms, he helped him off with his duster, then settled the younger man down in the overstuffed armchair, and made sure that he had given him his cards, 52 pieces of cardboard, but Gambit would cling to them like a life raft. 

 

Bending down in front of Gambit so that he could look up into his face, “Sorry I scared you kid, didn’t mean too.  If you want, I’ll get Cyke to move me.”

 

“No, Gambit okay with y’ bein here.  It’s just... don’t go grabbin’ at Gambit.”  He brushed his long hair back so that he could see Logan clearly.

 

The Canadian saw him flinch in the bright light, so he crossed over and picked the dark glasses off the bedside table, and placed them into his Guide’s hand.

 

“We good on this Gambit?”

 

“Gambit bien.”

 

As he walked out of the door, Logan could hear the shuffling of the cards, repeated again and again.

 

His mind made up, he decided to get some food; the kid was way too thin.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Blair Sandburg looked up from his laptop and across at his Sentinel, his relationship with Jim Ellison had been unique in more ways than one.

 

He could not help a smile touching his lips, the original odd couple, the free thinking hippy, and the straight-laced ex-military officer.  Both bonded together because of an accident at birth that made one a Sentinel and the other a Guide. 

 

Blair looked down at a neat pile of cards on the coffee table, each was thick, the printing discreet, and screamed expensive.  Across the center of each card,

 

Dr. Blair Sandburg, BA, MA, PhD.

Rainier University

 

 

The business cards were one of many presents that Jim and his family had given Blair on his graduation.  He still couldn’t believe that William Ellison would have bought him a new car.

 

It was unheard of for a Guide to own a vehicle; the insurance companies would never cover them. A Sentinel that wanted his Guide on his insurance faced crippling costs.  But not William Ellison, who owned his own insurance company, and made it plain that Guides were an untapped resource, and he had been proved right.  Since it became known that the Senior Guide Prime of Cascade and the Northern Territories had been accepted, the applications for coverage had started to come in from across the country, from Sentinels who finally, legally, were giving their Guides the independence they had shielded them from.

 

Jim Ellison and his family had given Blair his life back, and for that he was eternally grateful.  The GDP had undergone some radical changes in the last couple of years since he had started his PhD. 

 

Dr. Claydove, the Director, had begun to implement his changes, and the internal civil wars had been down and dirty, but the old guard had retired leaving the future a much brighter and less frightening place. And from September, Guides would legally be able to vote. 

 

It didn’t mean that it was a Utopian world. Just because discrimination was illegal didn’t mean that it didn’t happen every day in hundreds of small ways, but it was a start.

 

Now Blair was saddened to see that a new bigotry had taken shape in the GDP’s sister organization, the fledgling MDP, or Mutant Development Programme. 

 

The two organizations had grown apart, and it sometimes got nasty, especially where mutant empaths were concerned.  The GDP claimed them, as did the MDP. At least parents were now running to the GDP, knowing they would get protection for their offspring.  So maybe the GDP could finally live up to there name as a protector of Guides, developing them to the best of their abilities. 

 

Looking at the email that has arrived on his laptop, Blair was thoughtful; Dr. Charles Xavier had consulted with him and then sent an outline of what he believed was happening. This would be the first time that Blair had ever met a mutant empath, and mutant Sentinel.  It was going to be sooo interesting.

 

0-0-0-0

 

The Mansion was impressive, as was the security system, if Jim was anything to go by.  Sitting near him in the car Blair could feel the subtle change in his Sentinel, as the man moved into Blessed Protector mode.  Blair rested his hand against his arm, “easy big guy, we’re here to help, no need to go to war.”

 

“Mine.”

 

“Yours Sentinel.”  As he spoke Blair allowed his mind to caress against Jim’s, reassuring him on the most basic level that he was his Guide and only his.

 

By the time they had been shown into the office of Professor Charles Xavier Blair was bouncing, the vibes in the place were amazing.  He gave Jim a nudge when the older man seemed to slip deeper into the Blessed Protector persona.

 

The Professor turned out to be straightforward and welcoming.  Waving the newcomers to a seat he launched straight into the problem, showing none of the embarrassment that normally accompanied a ‘normals’ attempt to understand the bond.

 

“First let me thank you both for coming so quickly, the bonding problem has not resolved itself, and I believe it will need your expertise to help them.”

 

Thoughtfully Blair leaned forward, “bonding is always delicate, the connection between Guide and Sentinel is one of co-dependence, each giving something to the partnership, because that is what it is Professor, its taken nearly a quarter of a century, but the GDP has finally realized it.  The Guide has the ability to calm the Sentinel and keep him focused to prevent a zone out; he is in fact the safety net.  The Sentinel’s job is to protect his Guide, shield him from the emotions of the people around him, and in return he can use his senses without being crippled by outside forces.  But Sentinel and Guide have to trust and acknowledge each other, a forced bond is a disaster waiting to happen.”

 

“Yet yours was successful,” the Professor put in gently.

 

Jim started to his feet, a low growl rolling from his lips.

 

“Jim no,” Blair caught his wrist.  “It’s okay man, it’s okay.  I should have expected that Professor.  The truth of our bonding is that it started long before our official bonding, not unlike Logan and Gambit,” he tapped his forehead, “but then you already know that don’t you.”

 

“Not that way Doctor, I would never breech another’s mind, but the GDP is like a group of old women, they gossip, and you have featured high in their list of stories.”

 

“I was thrown into a room, and Jim was lost in the primal needs of a Sentinel to bond, he would have died without our connection, and we bonded,” Blair met the Professors eyes levelly, “and I have never regretted a single day since then.”  His voice and eyes shone with the pride that he felt in his bond to James Ellison.  “But I get a feeling that you brought it up for a reason.”

 

Charles nodded, “Gambit was in a situation where he was brought into connection with a mutant Sentinel, he’s more primal than your Detective Ellison, and a connection was made between them.  When the Sentinel found him at the Mansion, he had arrived on his own, purely by chance.  The Sentinel sought him out, they fought, and the two bonded. But then problems seem to have developed.”

 

“You said a mutant Sentinel.”

 

“Logan isn’t a Sentinel in the truest sense of the word,” Charles smiled, “sorry no pun intended.  He is primal, his enhanced sense are more animalistic, his whole body language changes, in that persona he is extremely dangerous.  It was hoped that Gambit could calm and focus him.  As for zone outs, I do not believe that he suffers them in the conventional form.” 

 

“What kind of empath is Gambit?  Is he not strong enough to form the link?”

 

“Very strong, he has formidable telepathic barriers, and as yet I have been unable to get him to trust us enough to test him.  Gambit doesn’t trust easily.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Jim was only listening with half an ear to the conversation as it became more technical, he could not shake off a feeling that something was coming.  It started as a shiver across his mind, like the rustle of leaves in the fall, but it was becoming stronger.  The thump, thump of a heart beat, then the scent, he seemed to lock in on it, it was spicy, musk. Suddenly the Dark Sentinel pushed through, and Jim was on his feet, ignoring the Professor’s question.

 

Charles had been in the middle of talking to Blair Sandburg when he noticed the younger man was drifting, his responses becoming more automatic.  Then he felt the change click into place, as in Blair’s mind another overlaid him, the two personas coming together as one. He stood, moving closer to his Sentinel, his eyes fixed on the door.

 

The door opened and Gambit walked in. 

 

Dark Guide and Dark Sentinel started at him, as they acknowledged another of their kind, only the second Dark Guide ever found, young, strong, and not fully bonded as of yet, but a Dark Guide all the same.

 

Charles felt two words projected by both the visitors.  “What is a Dark Guide gentlemen, and how does that concern Gambit?”

 

Jim answered, “He is a Dark Guide, and they are the most powerful of their kind.”

 

The Dark Sentinel was looking at him in wonder, he had never met a second Dark Guide in his lifetime, but his memories from the dreams of the ancients, if they had taught him anything, was that one Dark Guide was trouble, but two was like pulling a tiger by the tail, dangerous as it comes, and this one looked headstrong, and all piss and vinegar.

 

Charles took over, “Gambit this is Jim and Blair, they’re going to try and help you with your bonding.”

 

With a look of total distain, Gambit sank into one of the chairs, facing the door and keeping Jim and Blair in plain sight.  With a sigh Charles realized that Gambit was keeping his escape routes open.

 

Jim studied the new Dark Guide, he felt the protective surge that all Sentinels felt in the presence of a Guide, the same feeling that was magnified a 100 times for their own Guide.  He would be careful not to frighten Gambit, who looked even younger than his own Guide.

 

The young Dark Guide was dressed in skin-tight jeans, ratty sneakers, the sides of which were slit, and a red silk shirt that hung outside of his jeans and came down to his thighs, the sleeves un-buttoned and folded back from his wrists, his eyes were hidden by dark glasses.

 

Blair lowered his barriers trying to get a reading on the newcomer, only to have his emotions turned back on him.  In reflex Blair threw up his own barriers to protect himself, and it was his dark persona that threw the emotions back at the newcomer, emotions sharp as barbs.

 

Charles felt the battle increasing and put a damper field round both men.  “This stops now gentlemen,” there was a snap to his voice that made them both stop, but it didn’t stop them glaring at him.

 

Jim moved behind his Guide, dropping a hand onto his shoulder. He felt the jolt as if he was mainlining electric, as his mind tapped into Blair, “Easy Chief.”  He glared at the newcomer, Gambit, knowing that he had something to do with this. 

 

Before Charles could tell him the door to the study open as Logan burst in, the Wolverine in control, his eyes feral yellow, flashing round the room, his lips pulled back in a snarl, his shoulders dropped forward, hands held ready to attack, the claws extended.

 

When he moved, it was fast, getting between Gambit and the others, his eyes fixed on Jim, seeing him as a threat.  His head tilted and he openly scented, when he spoke it was a deep throated growl, as the man started to take control again.

 

“Hello Ranger.”

 

“Weapon X.”  Jim said the name, but even as it was uttered he pulled Blair behind him and fisted his gun. He had seen what Weapon X could do, and the carnage it left in its wake.  He also knew that he didn’t have a chance in hell of stopping it if it attacked. He had seen someone empty a full clip into Weapon X and it hadn’t even slowed him down. The shooter had been ripped apart by those claws.

 

Blair’s eyes went wide; the emotions coming off the smaller man were raw and feral to an extent that even surpassed Jim when he went primal.  He found it hard to pin all the emotions down, but one that came blazing through was protect and cherish the Guide.

 

Charles had been shocked that Ellison had recognized Logan.  Few of the  people that met Weapon X lived to speak about their encounter, as Logan was one of the most dangerous killers in the world.

 

Before anything could happen Gambit was on his feet, resting a hand on a broad shoulder, “It’s ok-ay Mon Amie, Gambit is bien, he can handle dem.” 

 

He looked at the gun, and stance, “Y’ a cop?”

 

“Cascade PD, Detective Ellison.”  Jim grated out.

 

Logan growled louder, no cop was going to take his Guide; he would gut the man first.

 

Blair stepped round his Sentinel, not an easy task, forcing the gun down.  “Look man we got off to a bad start, an empathic pissing contest.  You stand yours down and I’ll stand mine down, and we can talk Guide to Guide.”

 

Gambit nodded and moved with an almost sensual grace round Logan, keeping in contact all the time, until he faced him.  Looking down into the feral man’s face he brought a hand up and lightly stroked the contours of the strong features.  “Put de hardware away Cher,” he ran his hand down the older man’s arm now, his fingers ghosting over the dangerous claws.   His voice took on that warm smoky tone that Logan had to listen to. “Come on Cher, no threat, nothing we can’t handle.”

 

Logan retracted the claws, tilting his head slightly, and removed Gambit’s dark glasses so that he could look into the red on black eyes of his Guide, he could drown himself in them.  Gradually his yellow eyes turned back to hazel with old gold flecks in them.  Only then did he rest his arm round Gambit’s waist, waiting a heartbeat before lightly pulling him close, giving his young Guide a chance to pull away, Gambit usually rejected his touch in front of others, but his time he didn’t, he allowed Logan to pull him near. 

 

The empath leaned forward as he lowered his barriers, caressing Logan’s mind, but he felt fear that he would be thrown out of Logan’s mind, a soft sigh escaped Gambit’s lips as he felt Logan’s mind open and accept him.  Allowing him through all the formidable Weapon X shielding. 

 

Held tethered by an arm round his waist, Gambit felt Logan rub his back and shoulder, all the time talking low, reassuring him.

 

Time seemed to stand still for them, finally Gambit straightened up and moved to flank his Sentinel.

 

All the time Logan had been comforting his Guide he had kept the Ranger and his Guide under surveillance, any move towards Gambit would have resulted in their deaths.

 

“Chuck, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

 

Charles ignored the Chuck, he knew what it meant, that Logan was pissed off because he had allowed Gambit into a situation where he had been threatened, and the kid had not known he was going to face another strong empath.

 

“Logan, your bond has not strengthened, you need help,” he held up a hand to stop him before he could cut in.  “Blair Sandburg and Jim Ellison are here to help you. For both of your sakes you have to let them help.”

 

“We are here as Sentinel and Guide, we know what you have gone through.” Jim put in.

 

Blair, with a small nod to his Sentinel, took over.  “No Sentinel and Guide like to talk about what goes on in the bond with an outsider, its private.  But we can help you, I promise.” He looked toward the Professor, “If you could leave us now.”

 

A smile touched Jim’s lips, // His Guide, the Dark Guide has dismissed Professor Charles Xavier. It was a command not a request, perhaps realizing that it would be a lot easier without a none bond in the room, and the fact he was a telepath would have gotten in the way, no one wanted their mind read in the bond. It was way too intimate//.

 

Once the Professor had gone, Blair coaxed them into chairs, but noticed the way that Logan moved his so that he was between them and his Guide.

 

“How often have you bonded?”  Blair asked the question straightforward, no good beating round the bushes.

 

Gambit shifted in his chair, “Once.”

 

Blair shook his head, “the need to bond is paramount to a Sentinel and Guide.”

 

“I am not a Sentinel,” Logan almost spat the words.

 

Blair didn’t bat an eye, “you’re near enough to one for it not to matter.”  His voice lifted slightly. “If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck, live with it Logan.”

 

Jim had to suppress a grin at Blair, standing up to Weapon X, but then the kid had never seen what the guy could do in a berserker rage.  He felt a new respect for Gambit; if this kid shared a bonding bed with Weapon X he was made of the same tempered steel as his own Guide, a true Dark Guide.

 

“Do you sleep together?”

 

Gambit was on his feet, a card glowing in his hand.  “What y’ say about Gambit and Logan.  Come on cher, out of here.”

 

“Take the charge back kid, he didn’t mean it like that, did you bud?”  Logan’s voice had an edge to it.

 

“No, we have suffered from the same misunderstanding.  Half the PD, hell half the city, thinks that I am either on all fours or on my back serving my Sentinel.” 

 

There was a sadness Logan heard in Blair’s voice that hadn’t been there before. “But while the bond is being established you need to be really close to each other, and sleeping together helps.  The Sentinel will search for his Guide in his sleep, which can lead to problems with zone out, and will sleep better if he is close by.  For the Guide, it lets them lower all barriers and just bask in the protective shielding of the Sentinel.  It’s what we do.  Now what we have to do is make sure Logan that you have imprinted Gambit fully, and Gambit you need to learn to control what you’re projecting, Could you lower your barriers just for a moment.” 

 

Blair flushed bright red, and moved uncomfortably in his seat, as he breathed, “Different.”

 

But Logan was already taking control, he caught Gambit and pulled him close into his lap, talking softly and calming him down.  It was a good sign that Logan was tuned in to his Guide’s feeling. 

 

Blair had never felt an empath that projected such a sexual pull; that was not natural.  Gambit had been trained, and he hated to think what kind of training that had been like to get it that strong.  Gambit needed help. On the plus side Logan seemed to have been unaffected, had blocked it with his shield and was now reassuring  the young Dark Guide.

 

Pulling the Cajun close Logan let him into his mind and closed the formidable Weapon X barriers round him, but instead of suffocating Gambit, they had given the younger man strength and security.

 

Jim had felt Gambit through Blair and was puzzled. “Blair, your empathy is not like that.”

 

“Empathy is emotions, sex or sensuality is an emotion.”  The Sentinel understood, he had seen Blair in the Dark Guide persona and he had radiated the same sensuality, but Blair had control, Gambit didn’t, or rather had been trained to project that emotion.

 

“Who trained you?”  Blair put in bluntly, better to ask than to dance round the question.  Blair felt the fear coming off the younger Dark Guide, and Logan reacted, tucking his Guide’s head under his chin, anchoring the tall mutant to him.

 

Gambit buried his face against Logan’s neck, his long slender fingers gripping Logan’s flannel shirt.   “De Antiquarian, my master.”  The words were that quiet that Blair barely heard them, but he could feel the fear behind the words, a world of hurt. 

 

“Where was this?”

 

“Naw’lins.”

 

“Where?”  Blair glanced at Jim and Logan.  It was the Canadian that answered, “New Orleans, he’s from the French Quarter.”

 

He felt the nod against his chest.   

 

Jim would follow up the lead.

 

“Okay Gambit, I need you to project to me, fix on my emotions.”

 

“Non!”

 

Logan dropped his voice so that only Gambit could hear him, “It’s all right, I am here kiddo, won’t let them hurt you.”

 

“Promise.”

 

“Yeah, promise.”

 

Blair reached and claimed Jim’s hand and placed it on his shoulder, then opened his mind.  Gambit was very powerful, but unfocused. 

 

Someone had done that to him, forced a limit on what he could do, Gambit was a crippled Dark Guide and he was going to free him. 

 

Whatever was happening between the Guides, neither Sentinel was privy to the empathic exchange, but Jim pulled Blair back when he felt Blair leaning into him.  A look at Logan showed he had his own hands full with Gambit. Dark Guides had a passionate, sensual nature, which when bonded focused completely on their sentinel, which made them hard to deal with, if they became  lost  in their emotions.

 

Professor Xavier waited patiently for the men to come out of his study.

When they did emerge Jim Ellison had an arm round Blair Sandburg, and the smaller man was being held close, almost plastering himself to his sentinel, one arm under Jim’s jacket wrapped round his sentinel’s chest, as if frightened that someone would try to part them. 

Logan came out with Gambit held close, his whole attention focused on the young Cajun.

 

Charles cursed a society that branded as wrong any intimate touch between people of the same sex, as he noticed the look his students gave the four men.  This was not sex this was a much older need between sentinel and guide.  And in the case of the young Cajun, Gambit needed the physical contact, in fact he craved it, but at the same time was scared of it.  Charles mused they had a long way to go with him. Gambit was a psychological minefield at the moment, and with his volatile nature, made him very dangerous. But he would not lose this young man on his watch.

 

Seeing Bobby, Charles asked him to escort their guests to the room one floor above Logan and Gambit’s in the guest wing. Better not to put two territorial males on the same landing.

 

 

0-0-0-0

 

As they when to their room, Jim’s mind went over what he had heard about Gambit, they had a couple of starting points, New Orleans and the Antiquarian, but first he had to cool off a Dark Guide, like this Blair needed to bond, and could be aggressive at it.

 

At the door to the room, the Sentinel halted, his senses ranging out, checking for any threat on the other side of the door, only then did he open it, though blocking his Guide’s entrance until he had scanned the inside of the room.  Now Guide safe, he allowed Blair to enter.

 

Jim crossed to the bed, frowned, turned, and nearly lost his balance because Blair was that close to him. Blair pushed him and he fell backwards.  Even as his body bounced on the bed his Guide was on top of him, looming over him as he pinned him to the bed, the smile on his face pure Dark Guide, leaning in so that he was nose to nose with him, “Sentinel, claim your Guide.”

 

The blue in Jim’s eyes shifted slightly, deepening as the Dark Sentinel responded to the challenge of his Guide.  Moving quickly he gripped his Guide and flipped him over so the smaller man was under him, using his bigger size and body weight to keep the struggling Guide in place, then with a growl he bit down on his throat, marking his Guide. 

 

The bite went straight to the heart of the Dark Guide; so primal it ignited in him the heat of the ancient bond.  His hands tore at his Sentinel’s clothing, only needing one thing, skin to skin bonding.  The clothing was like cord against his skin, as he linked into this Sentinel’s gifts, feeling what he was feeling, the rough clothing, smelling his own scent, thick, heavy and clinging, then he began to lose himself and he felt himself spiraling down, until a hard bit to his throat brought him back.  Blurred eyes focused slowly onto Jim’s face.

 

“Greedy little one, a little at a time.” The voice roughed by need chilled him.  Jim started to pull back only to have a leg hook round his and pull him down, the need in Blair’s face that of the Dark Guide still.

 

“Too heavy.”

 

“Need to feel you, all of you,” the Dark Guide’s teeth cut into his neck.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Charles pulled back from his scan of the Mansion.  He had long established a psi link with all his students, a small surface link that meant he could check up on them.  All had been as it should be, when he had touched the minds of his guests the raw power generated between them both was searing, he had pulled back quickly to avoid intruding on the bond.  If that were the full bond, then he would have to train Logan and Gambit to shield them from the rest of the Mansion’ s telepaths, some were too young to be subjected to those mental images.  Carefully he built his own walls round the two men, cutting their emotions from the rest of the residence.

 

0-0-0-0

 

As much as  Logan craved the bond, he had decided that Gambit was not in any condition to bond, what he needed was to be safe, and the meeting with Blair had shaken him badly.  So, after making sure that his young Guide was comfortable, he left him to get some food. Jean had been cooking, so it should mean that they were in for a good meal. His guide was too thin and needed fattening up, he was only 175 soaking wet, to Logan food meant comfort and getting his guide to eat was paramount on his list of thing to do.

 

When he got back with the tray he found Gambit curled in the armchair in the Canadian’s room, showing a need to be close, a battered paperback book in his hand.  He was not surprised to see that he had donned the black duster, and had it pulled round him. The Cajuns version of a security blanket.

 

While setting out the meal Logan noticed that Gambit had spent about ten minutes on just a couple of the pages, his lips moving as he read, each page was turned with great reverence.

It was the first time Logan, had seen his guide with any type of book, but instinct told him that the book was treasured, and when he moved closer, Gambit clutched the book to him as if frightened that it would be taken away from him

 

“Can I see it?  I won’t’ damage it.”  Logan crouched down so that he was looking up into the Cajun’s face.

 

For a moment Gambit never moved, and then slowly he put it into Logan’s hands, his slender fingers easing back, almost caressing the pages.

 

With a great show of taking care, Logan turned it over and read the title, not allowing any adverse emotion to show in his face.

 

“Good book.”  He smiled as he handed it back, the Cajun was treating it as if it was the Holy Grail.

 

“Lunch, hope you’re hungry, Jean cooked it.”

 

Logan watched him nod and then put the book back into one of the inner pockets of his duster, giving it a gentle pat to make sure that it was still there.

 

It was then Logan remembered the shopping trip from hell.  The younger man had not looked at any books.  CD’s sure, but not books.

The kid was smart, give him a security system and he would get past it, but for all that Logan was beginning to think that the kid was barely literate, and with that knowledge another piece of the puzzle that was Gambit slotted into place. 

 

The Thieves Guild had a good educational framework, and it was known that most of the children passed through it, so how did Gambit miss that?

Logan was lost in thought when he realized that Gambit had moved over to the table and was looking at a copy of the Sentinel report, with one finger he flicked the cover open and was peering down at the words frowning.  “Blair wrote dis?”

 

“The kid’s a PhD, hard to imagine, don’t look like he should be out of his freshman year, but yeah kid, he wrote it.”  He paused. “What do you think of them?”

 

“Blair he’s ok-ay.  Mais Jim, he’s a cop, Gambit don’t like cops.”

 

Logan could feel the need to bond riding him like an addiction, but to force the bond would feel like rape, Gambit had to come to him willingly, but the frustration was building in him.  Instead he turned back to the meal on the table, “eat it before it’s cold.”  For a second his eyes burned bright yellow, but he clamped back on the Wolverine, eat first, then bond.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Blair rolled off the bed, avoiding the hand that tried to grab and pull him back; he pushed his hair back from his face.  “Wow, man, that was...” he trailed off.

 

“Wow!”  Jim said, a smug smile on his lips, it was not often Blair was lost for words, but this was one of those times.  The bonding had been intense, sweeping them both away with the emotions.

 

“Must be Logan and Gambit, having another dark pair is fueling the bonding.”

 

Jim rolled onto his back, his fingertips stroking across Blair’s thigh, still needing contact with his Guide, unwilling to give that up yet, the connection between them humming.

 

“We have to check up on them, make sure they’re okay.”

 

“Chief, interrupting a bonding is a sure way to get gutted.  Believe me, Logan is going to be royally pissed if we stop him in the middle of his bond.”

 

“And if they have been unable to connect again.”

 

“Okay, okay,” Jim swung his legs off the bed and began to pull on his shoes.  “But you keep behind me, and only go in when I tell you too.”  When he didn’t get a reply he snapped, “Guide, you hear me?”

 

Blair rolled his eyes to the heaven, “sure Jim, I heard you.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

The door to Logan’s room was yanked opened before Jim’s hand could hit the wood, and Blair had to hide a smile at the look on his Sentinel’s face, he had not appreciated it. One thing was sure, and he was no expert, but he would bet his years salary that no bonding had taken place.

 

“Blair,” his Guide had slipped past and was in the room, and was ignoring him, but Jim was keeping a close eye on Logan, as he saw the tips of the claws sliding in and out through the flesh of his hands.  As the skin was not getting a chance to heal, blood was dripping onto the floor.

 

Blair looked from Sentinel to Guide; they were going to need practical help.

 

“Jim I need you to help me show them how to bond,” he added, “please,” on a breath that only his Sentinel would hear. 

 

The bond was the most private and sacred ritual between Sentinel and Guide, and to even start to bond in front of another went against everything that Jim Ellison believed in. But he could see that Blair wanted this.

 

He closed the distance to Blair, and then reaching out collected his Guide’s hands, brought them to his face and scented his palms, inhaling the scent deeply, then touched them to his heart, before placing them at his waist. 

 

Jim felt self-conscious as he then leaned in and scented his Guide’s throat, but deep down he knew this was the only way for Logan and Gambit to see there was nothing wrong with intimate touching between Sentinel and Guide.

 

Slowly and reluctantly Jim pulled back, he could feel Blair’s mind caressing his, and it took all of his will power not to throw his Guide down and complete the bond.

 

Blair took a deep breath, and then looked at the other pairing.  Logan looked embarrassed, the Cajun’s expression was hard to read, the cards that somehow had appeared in his hands were moving back and forward faster then Blair could  follow..

 

“Okay, first put those down.”  Blair paused, “Gambit you don’t need them, and no one is going to hurt you.”

 

The young man came to his feet with the smooth agility of a cat Jim noted, then mentally added ‘and the sensual grace of a Dark Guide’, there was no mistaking it.

 

Gambit’s eyes never left Logan face as taking a steadying breath, he stepped into the Canadians  personal space.  Looking down at the smaller feral man, his hands were trembling slightly as he offered them to his Sentinel.

 

Logan took them with great care, and then, his eyes never leaving his Guide, scented his hands, his eyes becoming the color of old gold as the Wolverine came forward.  But instead of aggression the Wolverine was purring as he basked in the scent of his Guide.  He turned Gambit’s hands in his, reveling in the spicy scent of the younger man.  Tracing the long slender fingers he frowned, not liking their coldness.  Finally he moved them to his heart, then down, before reaching, one hand sliding round the back of Gambit’s neck as he guided the Guide’s head down to rest on his shoulder as he scented, his other arm going round Gambit’s waist.

 

Gambit suddenly twisted away, moving clear of the Canadian, dropping into a defensive position, ready to fight or flee.  Logan moved to block the window, cutting off that avenue of escape, his lips pulling back to show the elongated canine teeth of the Wolverine.

 

Blair dived in between them, “Chill out, this is not going to happen. Logan, Gambit, quit it!”  It was snapped with the roar of a Dark Guide.

 

Gambit snarled back, in Cajun French, the Dark Guide in him resenting the other’s interference.

 

Blair allowed the smile to remain hidden, // that’s my boy, showing your true colors, you don’t like anyone interfering with your Sentinel//.

 

“We will work this out, and you will bond,” Blair turned his back on Logan, a very dangerous practice when the Wolverine was out of it’s cage, but he knew that Jim was watching his back, “Gambit, you’re with me.”  He took the other Guide through to the Cajun’s bedroom and closed the door.

 

Jim only just managed to block Logan, “Back off them Logan, you can’t force a Dark Guide, you can only coax them.  Once bonded you’ll be okay, believe me.”

 

Logan tapped his own neck, and a smug smile touched his lips as Jim Ellison colored, “Little love bite?”

 

“Primal bonding Logan, you’re going to love it, but it’s hard on the body, and believe me a Dark Guide takes a lot of handling.  Do yourself a favor and cut the love bite cracks,” Jim’s voice had taken a harder tone. “Blair’s been through too much for me to find it funny.”

 

“So what do we do?”  Logan suddenly swore and jumped forward towards the door, only to be pulled back. 

 

Jim froze as the claws framed his face.

 

“It’s a white note generator, Blair’s using it so that he can have a heart to heart with Gambit on his own, and knows that we can’t help but listen in on their conversation. This is for Guides only, so lose the claws.”  All the time Jim’s eyes hadn’t left Logan’s.  With a soft snitk the claws retracted.

 

“He’s got a hour and in the mean time tell me about this Dark Guide business.”

 

Logan walked over to the wardrobe; inside was a small refrigerator and he threw a beer to Ellison.

 

Jim took a seat and stretched out his long legs.  “Okay, here is the deal. Blair is what is known as a Dark Guide, they are the most powerful empaths around, a real throwback to a time when Dark Guides were assassins, they bonded only to Dark Sentinels or gifted sentinels.”

 

“You’re a Dark Sentinel, so what’s the difference?”

 

“I kinda go primal, a while back someone tried to break our bond, and I killed them, the body count got high, but I couldn’t stop, they had to pay for hurting him. It’s hard to control, there are no longer any gray area’s, only black and white, them and us.”  He paused, “you understand.”

 

Logan only nodded, and took a deep pull on his beer.

 

“When Blair goes back to the Dark Guide persona that is the person he becomes, his body language changes, his very being changes, he has skills that he never had before. I’ve seen him throw a knife 15 yards and take his target right through the heart, killed him without batting an eyelid.  And believe me that isn’t my Blair.”

 

“Split personality?”

 

“Not really, hell, I don’t know, it’s beyond me, but all I know is that he’s linked, we’re both linked to our previous lives that tightly that it’s a destiny we can’t avoid.”

 

“And Gambit is a Dark Guide.”

 

“Yeah, only the second I have ever seen, and the moment he came in I could feel it.  Believe me Logan, you’re going to have your hands full, and the bond...” he allowed a smile, “it’s going to blow your mind.”  He knocked his beer can to Logan’s then settled down to wait, leaving a very thoughtful Canadian.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The hands on the clock seemed to take an age to turn through the hour.  Jim knocked lightly on the door, opened it, and stopped dead in his tracks.  The two Dark Guides were curled up like puppies on the bed, their bodies intertwined, and the whole room seemed to be vibrating with the empathic connection.  Jim closed the door and left them, and was surprised when he didn’t get an argument from Logan.

 

Blair cracked and eye open as the door closed, then hugged Gambit closer and turned back to the emotions that were flowing between them. 

 

This was just the start, he was determined that when he left to return to Cascade he would leave behind him a fully functioning Dark Guide.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jubilee was excited; she had spent the vacation at the home of one of her friends.  Charlotte Green’s powers were more along the lines of being able to merge with any computer system constructed.  She did not have to hack in the conventional way, all she needed was a way in and she could become one with the system.  Her parents had accepted her mutation and were loving and supportive, and so had readily opened their home to her friend Jubilation Lee.  Now all Jubilee wanted to do was get home to the Mansion and to see how Logan was. 

 

The other girls tended to tease her about Logan, but he was like an older brother, uncle, and platoon of angry pit bulls with attitude, mixed up in one bundle of five foot five adamantium fury.  And she loved him dearly.

 

It was late when she got in, and as always her excitement brought on bad nightmares of seeing her family killed in front of her, and there was only one way of putting the memories behind her. 

 

Jubilee ran a hand through her hair and yawned, eyes heavy with sleep.  One hand clutching her pillow, the other holding her flannel-dressing gown round her, she padded towards Wolverine’s room.  It was a habit that she had been unable to break; something about Logan made the nightmares go away, it was like having a five foot five, adamantium security blanket.

 

The light was off in the room, but she could see the lump in the bed and slide in next to Wolverine, cuddled up, and went to sleep.

 

0-0-0

 

Jubilee awoke and stretched.  Puzzled, she looked round her and realized she must have sleep walked to Logan.

 

It was then a couple of things began to register, for example, her hand was resting on Logan’s hip, and the skin was smooth, and, her brain back-tracked on that last bit, his skin was smooth?  Why was she feeling skin?  Her hand should have touched his sweat pants.  She moved her hand up and touched his flank, and then across his chest, there was none of that weird thick hair, and since when was Logan... ?

 

“Oh shit,” the two words came out with a gasp, she was in bed with a naked man, and it wasn’t Logan.  With a yelp that turned into a scream that would have done a steamboat whistle proud, she sat bolt upright and hit the light.  Her bedfellow swore, and the light exploded as he touched it.

 

Tumbling out of the bed she grabbed for the bedclothes to cover her, just as Logan came through the door, in time to see Gambit grab the pillow to cover himself.

 

Jubilee was pointing at the Cajun, “Logan he, your room, I...” she didn’t seem able to make a coherent sentence.

 

Seeing the two very confused young people Logan reached across and tossed Gambit his duster, “Close your eyes darling,” then with an amused growl added, “not you Cajun.” As he warned Jubilee the Cajun released the pillow and pulled the duster on, muttering something under his breath about feeling like a flasher in a porno movie theatre.

 

“Okay you can open them,” Logan could not stop the amusement showing as he heard the pounding of feet as the other members of the teaching facility showed up. 

 

“Jubilee, this is Gambit. Gambit, Jubilation Lee.”

 

“Nothing happened,” Gambit put in quickly, knowing what he had heard about Logan’s protective instincts about his girls; the two that he had befriended and were like family to him.

 

“I know it didn’t kid,” he tapped his nose.  “Now I don’t know about you, but Jubilee, you have something that belongs to me.”  Reaching down he caught Gambit’s wrist and pulled him to his feet, and propelled him through the inner door, closing it behind him as he turned to face the other teachers.  With a mental sigh he knew he was in for a long morning.

 

0-0-0-0

 

It was later that morning that Jubilee was coming out of her second lesson of the day, her habitual yellow jacket marking her as a beacon.

 

“Oh, you’re back,” Jubilee turned to see Sophie Jenkins stood in the doorway. Sophie had made it plain from the start that the Professor should have standards, and those certainly didn’t include barely human Canadians, and, unknown to her in her absence, Sophie had added a new type to the list, barely literate Cajuns. 

 

Although she would not mind the barely part of the thought, all sex foot two of him, but the Cajun had been standoffish with her, polite but cold, and that hurt.  Everyone knew that the Cajun put out to anything on two legs, yet he refused her.  She was pretty, and had money; she was not use to people turning her down, especially not some bog hopping swamp rat.  This she was going to enjoy.

 

“Heard you met Gambit this morning.  I don’t know what Gambit does, but you can hear them at it all night.”

 

“Gambit.”  Jubilee said the name as if he was a foul taste in her mouth, that was all she had heard all day, Gambit this Gambit that.

 

“Gambit has been putting it around the Mansion from the moment he walked through the door,” she leaned in close and whispered into Jubilee’s ear, pleased to see the shocked reaction, as she used every crudity she knew to describe just what she thought the Cajun was doing with the Canadian, then, pulling back, said out loud, “poor little Jubilee,” her tone mocking.  “How can you compete with him?”

 

Jubilee pushed past the tears beginning to well up in her eyes, being replaced with anger.  How dare he besmirch her Wolvie’s reputation? He would have to go, and quickly.

 

0-0-0

 

Her anger simmered as the day continued.  Her Wolvie was always with Gambit, at dinner he was fussing over the younger man, piling food on his plate and escorting him to the teacher’s table.  She even ignored the speculation on the two newcomers, and Kitty Pryde’s comment about the two new hotties had fallen on deaf ears. She had to get rid of Gambit.

 

It was much later that she entered one of the activity rooms, Gambit had the curtains pulled and was watching the television. 

 

Ignoring him she went across and yanked the curtains open, flooding the room with sunlight.  The Cajun threw a hand up to block the light as his hands tried to dig his glasses out of his pocket, only his unique spatial awareness saved him as he sensed the surge of power thrown in his direction.

 

He threw himself away from the chair even as the colorful power surge hit it, knocking it over, forward rolling, eyes still closed, he sent a charged card straight at the source.  The two charges hit and the explosion knocked them both across the room. 

 

Face in the carpet, Gambit shook his head slowly to clear the ringing, pulling his dark glasses on he looked across at his attacker.

 

Jubilee was getting to her feet, swaying, her facing showing shock, she had not expected him to react like that, and adults didn’t fight students.  Okay, Wolvie took her through training programs, but she had never fought him.  Gambit had attacked, and she realized that if he hadnt powered down his card, ye gods, he had thrown a charged playing card at her, he could have blown her through the wall.

 

“Y’ ok-ay petite.”  Gambit got up and crossed over to her, his hand on her arm steadied her, she wanted to toss it off her, but at the same time she knew she might fall over, her head was still ringing.

 

“What the hell?”  Scott was the first to arrive, his eyes took in the scene, the armchair with the burns to it, and he recognized the power signature as Jubilee.

 

“Jubilee, my office, now.” 

 

“It wasn’t the petites fault.”

 

“Can it Gambit, I know what I am looking at. Go find Logan before he comes storming in here, last thing I need now is a berserker.  Move it mister.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Scott sat the wayward teenager down, and then perched on the side of the desk, this was going to start informal.  “Mind telling me why you tried to fry Gambit?”

 

“Didn’t, it was just a joke.”

 

“We don’t use our powers for jokes, you know better than that, so what aren’t you telling me?”

 

“Gambit,” she spat the words, “that...” she trailed off.

 

“What’s wrong with Gambit?”

 

“He,” she broke off, then her anger exploded, she was not called the firecracker for nothing.  “He’s all over Wolverine. Have you heard what they’re saying,” the tears started to mist her eyes, “they say the he’s in bed with Wolvie, that he puts out, and,” she stopped.

 

Scott shook his head, “Jubilee, Logan is what they call a Sentinel, it’s a Neanderthal throwback,” his tone went soft, “why aren’t I surprised, that explains his berserker rages.  He needs an empath to help him control them and Gambit is an empath.  The two of them have to be together once they have connected, and then Logan will be better off.  Might actually improve his moods.  So you see he needs Gambit.  The Cajun isn’t doing anything bad believe me, to help Logan you have to allow Gambit to do his job.”

 

“But...”

 

Scott leaned forward, “Jubilee, you don’t want to hurt Wolverine do you?”

 

“No, of course not!”

 

“Then leave Gambit alone, you were very luck today not to get blown to kingdom come, he doesn’t always react with such restraint.”

 

“He couldn’t...”

 

“He could have.  You haven’t seen him in the Danger Room, now take this as a warning, with your powers come responsibilities, live up to them.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Jubilee came out of the office; the anger was now on a low simmer.  Mr. Summers had put her on the carpet, trying to justify that Cajun lowlife.  She went into the cafeteria and collected a hot chocolate, her primary comfort food.

 

Looking up she saw Logan. He scanned the room and then came over. Jubilee had gotten good at reading Logan, and she could see he was not happy.

 

The feral Canadian slide into a seat across from her, and he was annoyed as hell at her, he expected more from his cub than this.  He expected his cubs to accept Gambit, and make him part of his pack, this was not good enough.

 

Gambit paused in the doorway; he had seen Logan go in, the smaller man was now seated next to the girl that had attacked him, the tears rolling down her face.  Logan’s face was like granite, but he could feel the sadness the tears were causing his Sentinel.  For his entire grim exterior, Logan had feelings buried deep, he didn’t show them on his sleeve, but it didn’t mean that he didn’t have them.

 

“Gambit.” 

 

The Cajun turned at his name; Blair and Jim were stood behind him.

 

“I heard what happened.”  It was Jim that broke the silence, “you okay?”  It was the instinctive nature of the Sentinel to look after a Guide.

 

“Gambit okay.”

 

Blair laid a hand on his arm, “Come on, time we started working on that bonding.”  He coaxed the younger man to go with them.

 

Jim was not happy as he viewed the bonding platform that Blair had made.  “Are you sure about this, because believe me, all you’re going to do is piss off Logan.”

 

“It’s to help him.”  Blair put in, not bothering to look over his shoulder.

 

“Chief, if another Sentinel and Guide tried to put you on to the bonding platform, I sure as hell would have gone ballistic.  Blair.”  His voice got harder, “Sandburg, face me now.”

 

Blair turned, “Yes.”  His tone showed his boredom, he had already won this argument and wasn’t going through it again.

 

He gave a gasp as Jim grabbed him by his hair and pulled him close.  It hadn’t hurt, the Sentinel had grabbed close to the scalp, but it was the primal look in his eyes that had taken his breath away.  He was thrown none too gently against the wall, pinned to the unyielding surface, a second hand grabbing the scruff of his shirt, a hard knee pushed between his legs as he was held. The Dark Sentinel was out of its box. Jim was growling low and deep in his throat, the primal Sentinel restraining his wayward Guide.

 

Moving slowly Blair raised his hands and began to run them over his Sentinel’s broad shoulders, down his chest and flanks, all the time cooing softly to him.  Then he lowered his head, the grip lessened and he was able to place his forehead against the Dark Sentinel’s shoulder, showing submission to him.

 

Only then was Blair lowered back to the ground.  The Dark Sentinel turned his head, not yet releasing his Guide, to study the other Dark Guide; this one was in an aggressive stance. 

 

He roared his disapproval of this, Dark Guide was the mate of the Dark Sentinel, but the Dark Guide when unbonded should show submissive behavior to a full bonded and mated Dark Sentinel. 

 

He released Blair and stalked towards Gambit, fully intending to bring this Guide to book, when there was a click, the Bo-staff shot out to its full length, and Gambit swung it in front of him, ready to fight. 

 

Jim was good, but Gambit’s agility was not human, the staff slammed into his stomach, and then swept low, taking his legs from under him, another hit stunned the Dark Sentinel. When he tried to get up, the glowing end of the Bo-staff was against his throat.  The Dark Sentinel ex-Ranger had been unable to get close to the wayward Guide.

 

Blair closed his eyes and allowed his own Dark Guide to come forward, “Gambit”; his voice had that tone, the call of the Dark Guide to it. “Let him up, he didn’t want to hurt you, only to help, but a Dark Sentinel can be,” Blair shrugged, “thick headed about these things.  You can back off.  Jim, you will not touch him.”

 

Gambit backed off, the Bo-staff still held at the ready, he saw the change in body language as Blair came to his Sentinel, reaching a hand down, he helped him to his feet, his hands traveling over his Sentinel, checking on him.

“Now for lesson one.”  The flannel shirt hit the floor, then there was a thud as his shoes followed, barefooted, Blair padded to the platform, and then moved to the center.

 

Gracefully, as only a bonded Dark Guide could be, he dropped to his knees, his hands resting on his thighs, head held high.

 

Locking his eyes on those of his Sentinel, he reached a hand up, undid the tie, releasing his long hair, and with a shake he shook it free and it cascaded round his shoulders. Then he removed the t-shirt and threw it off the platform, then dropped forward, his hands resting palm down on the matting, his head down, hair veiling his face.

 

Jim’s breathing was coming faster as he opened his senses, his Dark Guide on his knees in submission to him.  The other Dark Guide was forgotten, he removed his shoes and then padded to stand looking down at Blair, before going to kneel beside his Guide, with the fingertips of one hand he ran them from the nap of Blair’s neck to his waist, luxuriating in the muscles and skin that moved under his hand. 

 

Only then did Blair ease back into the kneeling position, moving so that he was positioned behind Jim, wrapping one arm round his chest, plastering himself to his back, his other hand slowly petting his Sentinel.  Blair knew what all Dark Guides knew, submission was a tool in controlling the Dark Sentinel. The power was in the hands of the Guide not the Sentinel.

 

The Dark Guide lifted his head and viewed the unbonded Dark Guide. Gambit was watching them wide-eyed, he could feel the emotions coursing through the room, it was like wildfire, and the connection between the two men was like nothing he had ever experienced before.

 

Blair lifted one hand out to Gambit, inviting the other Dark Guide to join them when they bonded, to show him first hand what it was like, that there was nothing to fear.

 

The Bo-staff snapped shut, and was pushed into one of the pockets as he came closer.

 

“Your shoes and shirt, you need...”

 

“Non.” Gambit pulled back.

 

“Easy child, we won’t hurt you.”  Blair’s voice dipped to the seductive tones of the Dark Guide.  Blair didn’t repeat the request, he could feel the pain in the younger man’s mind, and Jim’s hand tightened on his wrist as he smelled the fear starting to .

 

Reaching out the Sentinel caught the edge of the duster and tugged it so that Gambit was kneeling near them.  Blair opened his mind fully so that when Jim reached out and slide his arms round Gambit’s waist the connection jumped into the younger Dark Guide’s mind, creating a link between them, using his own emotions to calm Gambit, who was barely keeping his fear under control.

 

Jim was gentle. With all the skill gained in helping Blair to come through the abuse he had suffered at the hands of the GDP; he coaxed the skittish younger Dark Guide nearer. No Sentinel would hurt an unbonded, and the Dark Sentinel felt ashamed that he had scared him earlier, he allowed Blair to transmit that shame to Gambit. 

 

Slowly the new Dark Guide began to relax, as the link between them flowed freely.  It was then that Blair allowed the power in the link to increase, building slowly so that it began to surge through pathways in Gambit’s head that had never before been used, to the Mutant Empath it was like a tidal wave. 

 

His fingers dug into Jim’s shoulders as his head went back and he screamed as the tidal wave became scalding hot, searing through.  As the scream died his eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

 

0-0-0

 

Jubilee was sat staring into her coffee as Logan tried to explain what was going on.  She knew that her Wolvie hated to confront emotions, any display made him uneasy.

 

In mid sentence he stopped, his head turning; the coffee cup fell from his hands and he was running full speed down the corridor, students scattering in all direction, Jubilee on his heels.  He bounded up the stairs two at a time, as in his mind he could hear Gambit’s scream echoing back and forward. 

 

He crashed through the door, a backhanded blow sent Blair flying as he tried to get to his Guide. The snitk sounded as the claws left their housing, the swipe just missed Jim’s head as he powered up to protect Blair, a kick to Logan’s stomach made the mutant fall backwards, but then he was coming at him again.

 

Jubilee ducked past, hurdling Blair fallen body and flipped Gambit onto his back.  She shook him, and when that failed, hit him hard across the face.  Red on black eyes flew open and his hand snapped up and caught her’s before it could land another blow.  She dragged him onto his side. He swore, pushing her out of the way, and then launched himself on to Logan’s back, wrapping his lean body round the feral Canadian. 

 

Feeling the weight hit him, Logan flipped the attacker over his shoulder and onto the floor, his claws coming down to impale, at the last second they halted as he stared into the face of his Guide.

 

Gambit hooked his hands round Logan’s wrists, Jubilee could not hear what he said, but the anger began to fade, at the same time she began to fidget and then flushed.  With a final growl at Sentinel and Guide, Logan retracted his claws and hauled his Guide to his feet, strong arms wrapping round the slender Cajun. The growl became a roar as he scented both Jim and Blair on him.  Releasing his hold only long enough to grab the front of his duster he began to tow the Cajun towards their room, he had to get the scent off Gambit, it was riding him like a tiger on his back.

 

Jubilee turned back, and then waved a hand, “I am okay guys, er, guys,” but Sentinel and Guide only had time for each other, as Jim cradled Blair against him to check for injuries.  His fingers tracing where Logan had backhanded him. “Right, get a room guys,” she backed out and closed the door, for a moment letting her head rest against it.

 

It was food for thought, hell it was a feast; even she would never have done that to Logan, jumping on his back like that.  She knew in battle with the X-Men he had sometimes swung at team members when lost in the Wolverine, yet Gambit had without hesitation jumped onto his back and the Wolverine had known it was him, and stopped a lethal attack.

 

Maybe what Logan had said was correct, there was a connection between them, and he did need Gambit.

 

She would have to think on that further.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Logan was growling as he towed his Guide, a student came round the corner and never saw Logan until it was nearly too late.  In fear she threw the only thing she was carrying; the teddy bear came flying at him, Logan claws sniked out and then in as the teddy bear’s head was cleaved from its body and a legend was born.

 

Pulling the door open, he tugged Gambit in, then began to circle him slowly, openly scenting him, pausing only to tug at his clothing, he wanted Gambit out of them and into the shower, the rival Sentinel’s scent was driving him crazy.  But even lost in the emotions of the Wolverine he knew that Gambit would freak out if he were pawed at.

 

“Kid go and have a shower, now. Can’t help it. You smell of him. Ellison that is...”

 

“ His scent?”

 

“Yeah, all over you.”  Gambit turned to get his sweats, but was pushed into the bathroom,  “I’ll bring them to you.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

The shower had soon been forgotten, and Gambit found himself soaking in the tub, the bath foam made him grin, he could not believe bubble bath when Logan had returned with it, and tipped a too generous amount in his bath.  The feral Canadian was now sat on the edge of the bath smoking a cigar, watching him as he soaked. 

 

Gambit realized he just needed to be close to him. He flicked the ash off his own cigarette into the soap dish, and mentally shook his head. Logan was fussing over him as if there was no tomorrow.  Blair had spoken of the Blessed Protector, and he was beginning to think that this was what he was experiencing.  The silence was comfortable, and he began to review what he had felt in the bonding, the feeling of being safe and secure. His head still ached slightly, but he could not help but feel that something had been released.

 

0-0-0-0

Xavier’s Study

 

Blair was seated in the study, “So you see we’re going to have to take them into the mountains, they need the isolation to achieve the bond. I managed to open up the pathways in Gambit’s mind, but they need to find their own bonding.”

 

“Their own bonding, isn’t it all the same?”

 

“No.”  Blair put in firmly. But made no effort to explain any further.

 

“Logan has a cabin in the mountains.”  Charles put in thoughtfully.

 

“I would prefer that they use the Sanctuary, it’s an area owned by the GDP.”

 

Charles felt the mental shudder that ran through Blair, and wondered about it; also it was funny that Blair would promote a GDP facility.

 

As if reading his mind Blair added, “The area is secure so no innocent campers are going to wander across us, because that could be very dangerous.  More than likely Logan’s feral state will trigger Jim’s and then just say it would not be safe for anyone else to go near them.”

 

“You can arrange that with the GDP.”

 

“We will.”  Jim cut in smoothly, he liked to limit Blair’s contact with the organization that had so abused his Guide early in their association, and was still the major source of his worst nightmares.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jubilee was puzzled by everything that has happened since she had come home.   Logan still hasn’t talked to her about Gambit beyond that short introduction.  She tried to equate what she had seen in the room when Gambit had risked his life by jumping on Wolverine, but she could not get over one thing, the fact that Gambit had been naked in Wolverine’s bed.   That fact seemed to highlight all the things that Sophie had said about him. 

 

In an attempt to clear her mind she decided to go for a walk in the gardens of the Mansion.  It was then she saw Sophie, near the back gate, deep in conversation with a man in his late thirties, but what caught her attention was the dark full length coat, that flapped round his feet, it reminded her of Gambit.

 

She gave a shudder, it was as if someone had walked over her grave, and a line from a play came unbidden to her mind. “Something wicked this way comes.”

 

Sophie has spotted her, she places a hand on the man’s arm as if asking him to stay, and then came over to her before she could walk away.  “You want to get rid of the Cajun, well I might just be able to help you.”

 

“Why, you thought it was funny.”  Jubilee let her bitterness show.

 

“Because having that thing here is a slur on the whole school, and your precious Wolvie’s virtue.”

 

“Logan needs that swamp rat.” Jubilee put in bitterly.

 

“Logan needs someone that can help him, not some filthy little bog hopping swamp rat, who’s going to do a run for it as soon as the heat dies down. You see the Cajun’s wanted; he’s hiding here to save his own neck. So its better he’s gone now before he brings Wolverine and the school down.”

 

“That man is he a cop?”

 

“ He’s from New Orleans, Captain LeBeau.  He’s got a warrant for Gambit, all we have to do is hand him over.”

 

“Then why hasn’t he gone to the Professor?”

 

“Because they believe his story, and the Professor believes in second chances.  You know him Jubilee, who else would have given Logan a second chance?”

 

Jubilee looked towards the Mansion, could she do it, did she have the strength to save her Wolvie?  She cursed the fact that Rogue wasn’t there, the other girl was older and would be able to advise her, after all, she had known Logan longer than her and knew what was best for him.  But Rogue wasn’t due back for a while, and this couldn’t wait.

 

“Okay, but we don’t hurt him right.”

 

Sophie slung an arm round her shoulder, “Trust me.”

 

Jubilee just nodded. It had to be done, so why was she feeling so bad?

 

0-0-0-0

 

Two days later the plans had been laid, she had hacked into the medical data base of the Mansion, hell it had been easy, Dr. McCoy was well known for leaving his computer logged on while he worked, and it had only taken a moment for her to bring up the Cajun’s medical records. 

 

She read through it quickly and it sickened her, how could he live with himself, and how could the Professor let that, that, creature, get his claws into her friend?  Quickly she scrawled down the information she needed, and by the time Dr. McCoy came back with his tea, she was gone.

 

It was decided that Sunday was the best day for their trap, Sunday at the Mansion was always quiet; some of the students going home for the weekend, and the others were shopping in the Mall or at the Cinema.

 

First she had to find the Cajun, she had seen Logan leave on his motorbike, and had knocked on Gambit’s door, but on getting no reply had pushed it open. Looking round she whistled softly, for someone who made an art work out of looking disheveled, his room was almost Spartan, and so clean you could eat off the floor.

 

Opening the wardrobe she removed a duffle bag, it was standard issue with the school, name stenciled on the side, and began to pack away his personal things, not that it took long, a few Cajun CD’s and clothes. 

 

With a disgusted snort she realized that he didn’t appear to own a pair of briefs or boxers.  She topped the bag off with three packs of playing cards.  Looking up she noticed more boxed near the bed.  

 

It was then she realized something; the bed didn’t look right.  When she placed a hand on it she realized what it was, the mattress had been removed, and as she walked round towards the window, she noticed for the first time the nest he had been building in that corner. 

 

“This guy is crazy,” she muttered out aloud, before adding, “He’s got to go.”   It was going to be hard, since he was an empath, but not impossible.  But first she stashed the duffle bag in her room to dispose of later; it wasn’t as if the guy was ever coming back.

 

Jubilee looked out of the large bay window and saw Gambit walking across the grounds; she rushed out, only slowing when she got near him.

 

“Gambit,” she saw the one of his hands was in the pocket of the duster, “pax, okay pax, can we talk?” 

 

She put on her best smile and was pleased that when his hand appeared it only held a new cigarette, which he lit with the one he was just finishing.  He took a pull on it before releasing the smoke in a plume.

 

“That’s bad for you, you know that.”  It was the only thing she could think of to say, it seemed she noticed to take him back.

 

“Gambit knows that petite, but it’s one t’ing Gambit doesn’t have to worry about.”

 

“Your mutation?”

 

“Oui.”

 

“You called me Petite. What does that mean?”

 

“Little one.”

 

Jubilee pulled herself up to her full height.  “Not so little Cajun,” but when he smiled she let the posture go.

 

“Look, I am sorry, I went off the deep end.  Its just... ending up in bed with you,” she flushed then added, “and some of the students keep teasing me about it.”

 

“Dey only jealous petite”. It was said with a rakish grin.

 

“Get over yourself Cajun”,  Jubilee found herself warming to him, she pushed it down ruthlessly and carried on “I was worried about Logan, you know, what they were saying about him.”

 

Her breath caught as she saw the look of anger on the Cajun’s face.

 

His handsome features took on a chilling look that stopped her in mid-stride. “Who said what?”

 

“Soph...,” she stopped herself in time.  “Just stupid talk, and Wolvie, he’s been like an uncle, always there in my corner, er, well our corner, Rogue and me, we have been family.” She cocked her head, “you know what I am trying to tell you don’t you?”

 

“We all make mistakes, only some of us get second chances and some of us don’t.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“Yeah, petite, y’ do.”  His face softened and she felt herself start to color, some how being the sole object of his attention made her uneasy.

 

Closing the distance she slide her arm through his, trying to ignore the flinch, and tugged him to continue walking.

 

It was for Wolvie’s good, so why did she feel so bad?

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

As they walked, Jubilee began to have the terrible feeling that what she was about to do was wrong, that she should have given the Cajun a chance to explain.  But she hardened her heart; she thought about the way he had snared her Wolverine, binding him to him, Logan could do better than him. 

 

When the men attacked it was fast, Gambit pushed her out of the way, positioning himself in front of her to protect her.  Her mouth dropped open as she watched him fight; she had never seen anyone move that fast before, with a lethal grace.

 

The Bo-staff was a blur, as he beat the men back, the man that Sophie had been talking to attacked but was beaten back again; Gambit’s lips had pulled back into a smile. “Salut Henri, long time Mon Amie.”  With the agility of a cat he leapt as Henri’s bo-staff slashed towards his legs, he cleared it effortlessly, and countered the move, putting the other man down hard.

 

Henri LeBeau swore; the freak was always needling him when they fought, and he had always managed to get away.  But this time he was doomed from the start.  LeBeau looked past him to where Jubilee was getting to her feet, the girl moved her hands towards her then away with a flick of the wrist, there was a paff and Gambit was hit in the back.  The explosion threw him ten feet; he rolled and tried to get back to his feet, when another paff hit him in the chest, this time he never moved.

 

Henri closed the distance between them and aimed a kick to the unconscious man’s ribs; the weight of the kick lifted Gambit up and flipped him onto his back. 

 

Jubilee could not believe what she was seeing.  “You can’t do that, you’re a cop.”  His hand went to the small of his back, pulled out an inhibitor collar, and snapped it round Gambit’s throat.  Only then did he manhandle the limp body, handcuffing his hands behind his back. 

Henri look at Jubilee, for the first time, “Y’ were to bring us something.”

 

She dug the packet from her pocket and handed it to him, “Aspirin.  The medical test Hank, er Dr. McCoy did, showed that it should act like a sedative on him, this should keep him under.”

 

Henri’s smile was softened, “Y’ did well,” then his lips twitched, “Who said we were cops?”  But by then Gambit was being slung into the van.

 

“You’re not?”

 

The answer was silence.

 

0-0-0-0

 

It was early evening when it hit the fan. Logan has been back 20 minutes when he came storming into the kitchen. “Jubes you seen the Cajun?”

 

“No, not all day, is he in his room?”  She tried to put it innocently.

 

Halfway out of the door Logan turned and just looked at her, his head tilting slightly to one side, and she saw his nose flare, he was scenting her.

 

“Then why are you smelling of him?”

 

Before she knew what were happening she was being dragged upstairs, by then Warren and Bobby has joined them, Logan pushed her into their arms, and then inhaled, her scent permeated the room.

 

“What were doing in his room?”

 

“That night...”

 

“Try again kid, that was my room, you never set foot in here, and this scent is fresh.”  He frowned, as he took in the room’s condition, quickly he jerked open the wardrobe door, then the drawers, nothing; the place has been picked clean.

 

“Okay Logan, I lied, I saw Gambit, he was leaving, said he could not hack it at the Mansion. He...”

 

Blair came up behind them, “No way, a Guide would never leave his Sentinel.”

 

“What do you know, butt out mister.”

 

The Dark Guide reacted.  Blair would never have done it, but the Dark Guide, would.  He caught her by her braided hair and slammed her against the wall. “Listen to me brat, only death or force would remove a Dark Guide from his Sentinel’s side, and girl, you already tried once.”  His voice had dropped to a low and dangerous whisper, as he felt her move her hand against his chest he leaned in, “try that with me and I’ll break your neck.”

 

Warren and Bobby exchanged a worried glance. The Professor had explained about the ancient Dark Guide persona that inhabited the body of the usually passive Dr. Sandburg, but this was the first time they had seen it unleashed, and it was like entering the twilight zone.

 

Jubilee’s hand dropped away, looking over his shoulder she saw his Sentinel.  Before she could call out to him Logan moved in front of her, his anger barely under control, in his hand a battered paperback book. “He would never leave without this, girl what have you done?”

 

She ignored Wolverine’s question and spoke directly to Jim Ellison. “You’re a police officer. He was wanted in New Orleans, he had to go, before he caused trouble.”

 

“If you let him get taken back to New Orleans, you’ve signed his death warrant,” Jim put in levelly. “Gambit isn’t Thieves Guild, they have been waiting to get their hands on him for the last 15 years, if we don’t get him back, he’s dead.

 

0-0-0-0

 

The X plane took off vertically from the Mansion, Jubilee looked out of the window and clutched the sick bag in her hand, then glanced across at Hank, she hated flying.  Dr. McCoy had tried to stop her coming, but she had dug her heels in, this was something she had to make right for Wolverine.

 

Seated next to her was Rogue, she gripped her gloved hand tightly, thankful that her older sister in the Wolverine family of strays had come home.  Whispering, she had told Rogue all about what had happened, her jealously, fears and shame.  The tears had been genuine, but she had known, even as she had spoken, that Rogue would never have made that mistake. The older girl was only a few years older, but had a mature head on her shoulder, and didn’t allow her emotions to rule her head.  But all the same Rogue gave her comfort, promising they would find Gambit and make it right.  Rogue pulled her close, slipped an arm round her, and hugged her, before looking over her bowed head to Wolverine.

 

Rogue was worried and tried not to show it.  Logan was seated away from them, his stillness unnatural.  She then looked towards the newcomers; the tall, older man with the receding hair but strongly handsome face was talking softly to his companion, a young, good looking man with long dark chestnut hair and flashing blue eyes.  The younger man got up and moved to kneel down by the side of Wolverine, he spoke softly and laid a hand on his arm, she expected him to reject the touch, but instead his head turned slowly as if on rusty springs, and his hand ruffled the flowing dark curls, his fingertips brushed the side of his face. Only then did the younger man return to his seat.

 

Lowering her voice Rogue asked, “Jubilee, this Gambit, what’s he like?  I mean what’s he look like?”

 

“Tall, about six two, I think, black duster, good looking, you know, long hair, er auburn, bangs, slim, rangy, er Cajun.”  She trailed off, so far Wolverine hadn’t spoken to her, but she had felt his eyes burn into her back, at the moment he couldn’t trust himself with her and that hurt.

 

She had betrayed him.

 

“Why?”

 

“Just got a feeling I might have met him once.”  She trailed off and settled down for a long flight.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Henri LeBeau moved to the back of the van, their flight had landed only twenty minutes ago and their cargo was now safely on it’s way to the LeBeau house, and Guild Justice. 

 

At 38, Henri was the first and only son of Jean Luc LeBeau, the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild, and his heir apparent.  He lacked his father’s six foot six frame, taking after his mother in height, he barely topped five foot nine, but his stocky build was pure LeBeau. 

 

He fingered his moustache, feeling the singed end of it where he had nearly gotten fried by a charged card.  They had been lucky, that fool of a girl had believed their stories, and helped them.

 

The doors to the LeBeau estate opened and the van was admitted.  Going to the rear of the building, a ramp opened and it went to the lower level.  As Henri went to report to his father, he gave orders for the Pet to be taken down to holding.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jean Luc was holding Mattie Baptiste, the woman had come to him all those years ago when he had first become Patriarch to the Thieves Guild.  She had counseled him well, and was the only person that Jean Luc could speak openly with about Guild matters, other than his son. Her council was wise and she never had let him down.  It was she that had, 24 years ago, encouraged him to break with the Antiquarian, the old Wizard that had used his powers to promote the Thieves Guild in their battle against the equally powerful Assassins Guild.  She had seen the corruption, and had told him that only if they removed his hold on the Guild would the Guild become strong.

 

She had collapsed suddenly into his arms; he helped her to a seat and was coaxing a drink of brandy into her.  Mattie’s hand was shaking.

 

Mattie was a handsome woman, her age was hard to guess, she hadn’t changed, and she seemed eternal.

 

Henri rushed to her side, after the death of his mother she had been like a mother to him.

 

“What happened Papa?”

 

“She just collapsed, Mattie, are you...”

 

“Am alright Jean Luc” her hand went to her head, she was puzzled, it had been like a sledgehammer knocking her down. Too dizzy to stand she clung to Jean Luc, her eyes rolled up in her head and she passed out. 

 

It was Jean Luc that swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, by then she had started to come round.  As she lay on the bed she pushed him away, he had Guild business to conclude.  She closed her eyes to push away the pain that started to radiate through her body.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Because of a series of Guild meetings it was late evening before Jean Luc finally went to the holding cell.  He was an imposing figure, a big bear of a man, but who walked light on his feet, his large thick fingers belaying the fact that he could open any lock by touch.  He was a total contradiction to his son Henri, who seemed only half his size.  He looked at the Pet, the young man was hanging from his wrists, his feet swinging three feet from the floor, his eyes closed, blood running from his nose and mouth, a cut above his left eye, and his long hair hanging down. Five of LeBeau’s men stood round, bored, waiting for further orders.

 

He walked so that he was close enough to look the Pet in the face.

 

“You awake?”  When he didn’t get an answer he backhanded Gambit across the face, the blow sending his body swinging.

 

The cut on his mouth opened up and fresh blood flowed down his chin.  Jean Luc caught Gambit by the front of his shirt, and then hit him again, this time anchoring him, the blows like gunshots.  The eyes this time cracked open, and closed again, the light was burning them.

 

“Open your eyes.”

 

Gambit didn’t even listen to him, they were going to hurt him if he did it or not.  The pain made his eyes fly open and he could not quite bite back on the scream as the knife went into his thigh.

 

“Now keep them open, obey the Master.”  

 

Gambit was breathing heavily, trying to push the pain away.  It was the not the Patriarch that had done it, it was one of the men that has been using him as a punching bag from the moment he had come round.

 

Jean Luc ordered the man back, his anger blinding him to the abuse his men were doing.

 

“You will pay Pet for...”

 

That was as far as he got as Gambit spat in his face, his words slurred but the insult stung.  Jean Luc lashed out, his big fist thudding into the helpless man.

 

Henri pulled his father back, “He’s out cold papa, don’t waste your time on him.”  Before he could say anything else, one of the maid’s came running down.  Mattie had taken a turn for the worse; she was spitting blood.

 

“We can wait, Henri you are with me,” then to the men added, “You men, he must not escape and he must not die other than that he is yours.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Early the next morning Mattie woke, her head was clear, but her body was hurting, the pain radiating from her stomach upwards, no the pain was lower, her eyes opened wide, she was a telepath, and in the background she could hear a rumbling, like thunder on the horizon.  When she tried to sit up, Jean Luc moved quickly, easing her back down. She had had a rough night, turning and thrashing in her sleep.

 

“You have to rest.”  He tried to still his fear as her warm hazel eyes seemed to lose their focus. It was as if a floodgate had opened in her mind.

 

“Your son, Jean Luc, is hurting, you must go to him,” she clung to him, her fingers digging into his flesh through his shirt.

 

“Mattie, Henri is safe, see.”  The older woman turned to look at Henri, reaching out to him. “Non Jean Luc, your son is hurting, you must save him.  I can feel him, his pain, his,” her face scrunched up, and the tears began to flow.  “So much pain, they are hurting him now.”

 

Henri looked to his father and the color left his face, he knew Mattie too well to think that she was making it up, even in illness.  “Gambit!”

 

Jean Luc swore, “she collapsed when that creature came into our house, and now,” he broke off, “Mattie, he is no son of mine.”

 

“I feel the LeBeau line, he is one with you, go, and you have to help him, make this right.”

 

When Henri hesitated she tried to get up, “Go chile’, your brother, y’ must help him.”

 

Jean Luc, put a hand to his face.  “Mon dieu what have I done?”

 

 

0-0-0

 

Henri took the stairs two at a time, he didn’t know what to think of Mattie’s words, but he had to find out.  The door opened before he could reach the door to the holding cell, Julian was coming out, he was adjusting his clothing, a smug satisfied look on his face; blood smeared his hands and clothing, and an empty bottle of bourbon was in his hand. Henri pushed past, and stopped in his tracks. 

 

The Pet was on the floor, he had been cut down at some time during the night, his clothes had been torn off, he was a mass of blood and bruised flesh, he had been badly beaten, the guards were circled round him, one was upending a bottle of drink down his throat as another held his head in place as he was drowned on the booze. 

 

The guards were out of control, drunk not only on the whisky but on power, the Pet was in no position to stop them, and through the night they had egged each other on, their excesses getting worse, their excuse being that he would die anyway, so who cared. 

 

Sickened Henri struck out with his fists, beating at them and pulling them off Gambit, one of the men swore and spun round ready to retaliate, when he saw it was the heir apparent to the Thieves Guild.

 

“Guild M m master LeBeau,” his head rocked under the backhanded blow that Henri dealt him. 

 

“Get away from him.”

 

Henri didn’t even check they were obeying, his eyes were fixed on Gambit; the mutant’s lips had turned blue.  Swearing and at the same time offering up a prayer, he rolled Gambit onto his stomach, and began to pumping his body, forcing whiskey from his lungs.  Henri felt the body jerk and a breath was taken, the next second Gambit was throwing up on the floor.

 

Supporting his newly discovered brother’s body, ignoring the stench of vomit, he snarled, “give me that coat,” he recognized it as the one that Gambit had been wearing, the only piece of clothing that hadn’t been cut off his body.  Henri pulled it round the barely conscious man and held him close. 

 

Lifting him as if he weighed no more than a baby, Henri took him out of the holding cell and up into the house, ignoring the startled look on the men’s faces. This was family, and nothing was more important than family.

 

As soon as they entered the entrance hall Mattie was waiting.  She brushed past Jean Luc as she pushed her pain back down deep inside her mind, the pain was radiating from the young man in Henri’s arms.  Only through helping him would it stop. 

 

Leaning over the now unconscious man she gently brushed her hands over the bruised face, dried blood clotted in his hairline from a blow to the side of his head, his lip was split and his jaw heavily bruised by fists. When she saw Jean Luc hang back she said sagely, “Blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh Jean Luc.”

 

“He can’t be.”

 

“He is, trust your Tante. Now this way.”

 

Henri carried Gambit into one of the downstairs rooms, laying him onto the  bed as his father pulled down the blankets.  Jean Luc stared down at the young man he had sworn to destroy, now, if Mattie was right, all that had changed. 

 

For the first time he looked at the fine boned features, and his hand tightened on the back of the sofa. Margaret Dupont, his lover over 24 years ago, she had been his secretary until the death of his wife, then she had become the rock.  They had become lovers, she had brought him back, helped him regain his humanity. 

 

But Henri had refused to accept her, a child; he had snubbed her at every turn, seeing her only as a rival to his dead mother.  They had parted; she had died soon after in childbirth, the child had been still born.  The words now came back to haunt him.  Margaret had had the most startling eyes, a burning hazel that had flashed with passion and power. “Oh Mon Dui.”  Jean Luc sat down quickly.

 

Henri coughed, “we will need to have his DNA checked, but Mattie...”

 

“Mattie is never wrong Henri. Not on things like this.”  For the first time he reached out a thick finger and lightly moved a lock of hair from the closed eyes of his child.  His gaze traveled down the battered body, taking in the signs of abuse.  “The men who did this, have them detained.”

 

“Papa?”

 

“Did you tell them they could do this?”

 

“Of course not!”  Henri allowed his anger to show.

 

“Then Antiquarian Pet or not, they exceeded their orders, they will be punished.”

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Gambit came round, and there was no halfway stage.  One minute he was out cold, the next he was awake, the pillow was arching towards Henri, only his Thieves reactions gave him a chance of avoiding it, even so the inner door was blown off its hinges.  Gambit was halfway out of the bed when he was tackled and pinned face down.

 

Henri suddenly saw that the bedclothes were pulsing with biokinetic power. He managed to pull Gambit off it and throw them out of the window before pushing himself flat; the explosion threw turf up against the windows.  He twisted round; Gambit was now holding a book.  Henri cursed; he had never realized how many items could be used as weapons in Gambit’s hands.

 

“Pax, Gambit,” he held his hands out, palm first, and then yelled at the men to back away from the door. “No one is going to hurt you.”

 

Gambit snarled at him and the power increased.

 

Mattie rushed in, her eyes never leaving Gambit, he immediately fixed on her.  She was broadcasting, making no attempt to hide her telepathic ability.  Slowly the power began to leave the book. Only then did she reach down and take his hand, she could feel the agony, the young man was hurting badly, and this attempted escape hadn’t helped.  Her hand ghosted over his face, brushing the hair back, “Y’ tired chile, no one will hurt y’ now.”  Never losing eye contact she continued “Henri y’ can help him into the bed now.”

 

Henri moved slowly, he felt Gambit flinch away from him but didn’t pull back; he firmly took hold of him, and lifted him back onto the bed.  The red on black eyes where closed now.

 

Mattie put a hand on his shoulder “get Dr. Howard now.”

 

“Tante?”

 

“Go chile.”

 

He had just put the phone down when he saw his father come into the room; he saw the haunted look on his face, “Papa?”

 

“He is a LeBeau.”  Jean Luc looked down at the now unconscious man. “We have much to make right Henri.”

 

“We will papa, we will.”

 

0-0-0-0

 

Dr. Howard arrived at the front door of the LeBeau house, before he even had a chance to knock the door opened and he was ushered in.

 

Jean Luc looked from the doctor to the stranger with him. “And this is?”

 

“Dr. Bailey, a colleague of mine Jean Luc, he is an expert of the mutant state, and I thought he could be of help.”

 

“And this charming young lady?”  Jean Luc favored the young woman with a smile as he took her hand and kissed the air above it.

 

“Miss Marie Pearson, she is a nurse, we might have need of her help if his condition is as bad as you have said.  Now where is my patient?”

 

Once the doctors had been admitted to the room, Jean Luc gave his apologies and left, he entered the downstairs room and took a seat at the computer scanner; his fingers flew across the keyboards, the bedroom came into sharp focus, but the two men seemed to waver like a road on a hot day.

 

There was something very wrong here.

 

The nurse with the distinct brunette and gray hair looked round the room then whispered to the taller of the two men, as the man calling himself Dr. Howard  leaned over LeBeau’s newly discovered son.

 

Quickly he pulled the blankets back, and his breath caught in a sharp hiss, fingers moved over the abused flesh.

 

“It is as we feared, our Acadian friend is in a bad way.” He opened the bag and took out some equipment.  “Rogue you first, remember you have to be very careful.”

 

The nurse nodded and then removed her gloves and moved round to sit on the edge of the bed, for a moment she looked down into the battered face of the man she was here to help. With the tips of her fingers she moved some of the hair back from his face. 

 

Earlier she had absorbed the powers of Wolverine, among them the ability to heal from any wound. That was her mutation, she could absorb powers, and it was also her curse. 

 

Rogue placed her hands either side of the Cajun’s face, but this time she willed the power from her body, it was as if an electric shock had hit him, Gambit’s head went back and his body arched as she hotwired his healing ability.  In her head she could feel Logan’s emotions for this young man, the need of a Sentinel for his Guide.  Emotions of caring and cherishing that Wolverine would never admit to, but which burned strong.

 

The bruising on Gambit’s face began to turn brown, as the Wolverine’s healing factor kicked in, the cut to the lip and head began to close up.   Rogue pushed herself to the limit to save him. 

 

Suddenly her energy went and she dropped forward onto Gambit, only just managing to avoid falling on him. In that second red on black eyes flashed open, a hand wrapped into her hair and pulled her down, soft lips met hers and she was pulled into an earth-shattering kiss.

 

With a startled yelp she pulled back from Gambit, his eyes slide shut,  she hadn’t the power to absorb him, but as she had pulled back she had felt a flash of heat that has seared through her body, leaving her tingling.

 

Warren allowed a smile, “The boy certainly had good reflexes, from coma to lover five seconds flat.” 

 

McCoy smiled at the quip and then was all business again. “Rogue has healed his wounds, but his energy level is low, if he attempts to charge anything he could go hypothermic, we have to leave him now, and return to collect him later.”

 

“Logan’s not going to like this.”

 

“Well when did Logan get a medical degree, it has to be this way, we couldn’t fight a way out of here with him like this. We keep to the plan.”

 

“Papa” Henri was watching over his fathers’ shoulder, “those are the X-Men”,  he had recognized them from his surveillance of the Mansion.

 

“It appears that my petite fils friends have arrived, call Reg White, it may be that we can use these people.”

 

Getting to his feet, Jean Luc got up to bid the doctors goodbye.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 Hotel Majestic

 

Hank closed down the image cloak and sat on the bed, looking round at this fellow X-Men.  Warren switched off his own cloaking device and instead of a doctor Hank was looking at a good-looking young man with the large white wings of an angel. 

 

Warren’s wings fluttered, he was restless, so far they had followed several leads given to them by Reg White, a colleague of Jim Ellison’s that had come down to the Big Easy three years ago, and was acting as guide to them. About where a meeting was going to be held, and they would get their clear shot at rescuing Gambit.

 

Now Reg was in the middle of giving a briefing, shifting nervously as for the first time he saw the extent of their mutation.

 

“Word on the street is that the Thieves Guild is holding a Council meeting with the Assassin’s Guild, its about the Pet,” Logan growled and Reg heard the snitk of the claws, he tried to repress a shudder.  “Er, Gambit, the Thieves have him and the Assassin’s want him.  It’s the best chance you’re going to get to rescue him.”

 

Logan cut in, “And the Antiquarian?”  His voice was barely human.  As time was passing he was falling deeper into the primal nature.

 

White looked uncomfortable, “Has said that he will do nothing to help his Pet, Gambit is to be sacrificed to the Assassins.”

 

Jim leaned in, “you need to tell me where this is going down Reg.”

 

“Shit Jim, they will kill me if I tell you that, you don’t understand.”

 

There was a loud snitk right behind Reg’s head, which the New Orleans cop could not mistake.

 

Jim never broke eye contact with his friend. “Reg, Logan is beginning to lose it, he has to find his Guide, believe me, and none of the people holding him are going to be in any position to retaliate.”

 

“Jim, you’re a cop.”

 

“No, I am a Sentinel, and this is Sentinel business.”

 

“The warehouse district, pier 323, it’s neutral, they hold court there.

 

He shuddered as he felt the hot breath on his neck, then it was gone.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The knock on the door had the X-Men on their feet; Warren and Hank activated the imager as Logan opened the door.  Stepping back he allowed Jean Luc LeBeau to enter, the man was alone.  Rogue moved to the window, a car was parked along the block, “five bodyguards.”

 

“Gentlemen.  Ladies.  I think we need to talk.”

 

Logan started forward, only to have his arm caught by Blair Sandburg, for a moment yellow feral eyes met cool blue.  Only the fact he was faced by a Guide made Logan stop, he would have had to hurt Blair to get to LeBeau, and even in his most feral state, he would not hurt a Guide.

 

Jim shook his head, “How long have you been in his pocket Reg?”

 

“Two years, and it’s not like you think, Jean Luc saved my son, and this is the first time.”

 

“De only time I will ask, and only because it concerns Mon Fils.”

 

“Your son,” Blair cut in, “Gambit is your son?  Yet you...”

 

“We didn’t know.”

 

Blair understood, he could feel the raw emotions of the older man, “He’s speaking the truth Jim, they never knew.”

The older Cajun shook himself mentally, emotional blood letting in public was not his way, “De Assassin’s want Gambit, and they will challenge him to trial by combat, for every Assassin he has killed he will have to fight one, and in his condition, he will die.”

 

For the first time Jim’s face cracked into a smile, “but he doesn’t have to fight alone.”

 

“Rules of de Combat.”

 

“Gambit is a Guide, a blood vendetta has been called by the Assassins, which means that his Sentinel, and those of his clan, are seen as an extension of him.  Logan can fight by his side, as can we.”

 

Jean Luc smiled as he produced a cigar, he was beginning to like how these people thought.

 

 

0-0-0-0

 

For the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild  it was a time of trying to make friends with his lost  son, whatever the X-Men had done had healed the worst of the injuries, but Gambit was still exhausted as he body healed at an accelerated rate. Sitting on the edge of the bed, a picture album in his hand, Jean Luc tried to explain the past to his new son.  He held nothing back, his rejection of Margaret, and his remorse at her death.

 

The Patriarch hoped that his empathy would make him realize he was speaking the truth.  Mattie spent hours seated by his bedside, talking to Gambit, often holding his hand, allowing her mind to try to comfort him, showing him the truth through her emotions, linking Gambit to Jean Luc, allowing the younger man to for the time feel the emotions of his birth father.  But it was still early days.

 

For Jean Luc a momentous moment was when Henri came back from the record office, as he silently laid the file in front of his father, “Mon frere has a name now.”

 

Jean Luc opened the file; it was the birth and then death certificate for Remy Dupont.

 

Henri watched as his father screwed the death certificate up and then handed the file back with the birth certificate, “have this changed Henri, he will carry the name of his father.”

 

“Papa, how do you know that he will accept us, we have been at war, I have tried to kill him, and we are enemies,” he ploughed on, “a few days of talking cannot undo years of hatred, Papa.”

 

“He is my son and your brother, this is the family we should have had, what has been lost has now been found, I will not lose him again.”  

 

Henri knew not to argue, his father was set on the idea.  He had examined his own feelings, he had rejected Margaret Dupont and lost his father a chance of happiness.  He could turn his face against his brother or accept him, this time he would accept.  His place as first-born could not be challenged, and he respected Gambit as a fighter and thief, better that he was in the Guild fold.  

 

Remy LeBeau.  Somehow it sounded right.

 

 

 

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Jean Luc was in the formal robes of the Patriarch of the Thieves Guild of New Orleans.  Henri and a pale-faced Gambit, dressed all in black, the tight fitting battle suit of the Guild under his black duster, flanked him.  The Bo-staff was tucked in the loops on the thigh of the suit.  His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and then folded back and held in place on the nap of his neck.

 

Marcus, the Patriarch of the Assassin’s Guild, was a formable warrior, his face carrying the scar inflicted when he had challenged for his right to lead the Guild over thirty years ago.  He was a crafty old fox, known for his cunning; enemies knew he was to be feared.

 

His voice rung out.

 

“Jean Luc, as according to our treaty, we are here for the creature Gambit.  You will hand him over and he will suffer for what he has done to our Guild.  Only when he has felt the wrath of the Guild will he die.”

 

“Non.”

 

“Jean Luc.”  There was a note of warning in his voice.

 

“Gambit is my son.”

 

There was a stunned silence, “and for that we should forget what he has done, those that he has killed.”  There was a mocking to Marcus’s voice that was echoed by the voices of his men, rising in anger.

 

“He fought in a war, that war is now over.”

 

“We demand blood for blood.” Marcus snarled back.

 

Gambit put a hand out. “Trial by combat, it is the right of any Thief.”

 

“You are no Thief, whore.”  Marcus snapped back.

 

Jean Luc cut in, “Gambit was trained by Master Thief Thomas Bevis, therefore through him, he is a Guild Thief, and the right to combat is in our treaty.”

 

“Then so be it.”  Marcus turned on his heel and ordered his men forward into the well of the Council chamber.

 

Gambit was still hurting, but he pushed the pain back, slipping out of the duster.  His body had almost healed but he was still sore, and exhausted. 

 

The black armor was different to the one he normally wore in that it had the deep red stripes of the Thieves Guild on the sleeve, marking him as a Master Thief.  Each stripe actually was a small pocket containing cards.  He pulled the Bo-staff out, opening it fully, and used it to vault down.  In mid-air he somersaulted and landed on his feet, the staff already twisting in his hands as he faced down the Assassins that spread out. 

 

Marcus has allocated one Assassin for every one that he had killed.  Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.

 

They’d just begun to move forward when the glass roof shattered and Logan dropped the 40 feet into the Chamber.  He landed, rolled, and came to his feet, his eyes yellow, shoulders down, leaning forward, his hands held in front of him, the claws shining in the light, his face twisted in anger. 

 

Showing his canines the Wolverine moved forward to flank his guide..

 

Even as the Assassin’s and Thieves pulled their weapons, a new voice cut in. 

 

Blair called out, “Gambit is a Guide, and it is their right to fight with their Sentinel.”

 

Jim flanked his Guide, and for the first time in centuries a Dark Guide appeared in public in the robes of his calling. The black robes covered boots and trouser, at his waist a purple belt, over his shoulder a harness holding a sword, at this moment Blair Sandburg has been replaced by the Dark Guide. 

 

Jim matched Blair step for step, his black clothing was relieved only by the purple lattice of braiding that came from the shoulder and finished at his wrist, and at his waist a sword, the Dark Sentinel standing bodyguard to his Guide as they entered the Council Meeting.

 

Mattie, put a hand up and silenced the Thieves as Darius, the Councilor of the Assassin Guild, did the same, both of them knew in their ancient souls what they were looking at.

 

“You dare!”  Marcus started.

 

“We dare.”  Jim cut in, his voice the barely suppressed roar of a Dark Sentinel. 

 

The Dark Guide moved with the sensual grace of his calling.

 

“Your creed, is nothing but the diluted creed of the Dark Temple, and you dare to question me.”  He stepped forward, “Look at me and tell me what you see, Marcus of the Guild.”

 

The Guild leader for the first time looked, remembering the writing of the ancient chronicles, “You are them.”

 

The Dark Guide’s mouth twitched, “Then do you question us?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then let us begin.”

 

Then the fight started.  Ten Assassins began to move in on Gambit and Logan, and  began to die.

 

Logan’s attack was savage, if the assassins expected finesse they soon learned that all the elegance of the Assassins Guild was nothing when up against the raw power of a berserker.

 

Jim spoke in a low voice, “The Wolverine is the best at what he does, and what he does isn’t pretty.”  He put a hand to his face and wiped away a splatter of blood from the jugular of one of the Assassin’s.

 

Gambit fought with power and elegance, his agility was almost beautiful to watch, the Bo-staff almost a living extension of his hands. 

 

His energy was limited because of his injuries, and he made no effort to string the fight out.  He struck hard and fast, bring one crashing down with a blow to the legs, then a charged slash across the throat smashing the larynx. 

 

Twisting, he deflected a sword that was aimed at his neck; a twist of the Bo-staff and the blade was torn from the man’s hand, the follow through caving in his skull. 

 

Logan jumped over the slash of one of the swords, forward rolled, coming back to his feet, hands forward, taking the Assassin in the chest with all six claws, piercing up into the heart.  Then with a snarl he launched himself at three of them, smashing into their defensive circle, slashing, maiming, and killing.

 

Panting heavily he looked round to see his Guide put the last one down. Gambit was leaning on the Bo-staff; pain was flaring through his body.  Blood dripping from his mouth, he put a hand to wipe it away when Logan pounced, pushing Gambit aside.  He took the sword thrust to the body, then looking the Assassin in the eyes, pulled the man to him, running the sword even deeper into his body, until he was looking him in the eyes, then the man’s eyes bulged as Logan’s claws found his heart with one up thrust.  The Assassin fell to the floor as Logan went to his knees.  Gambit’s hand rested on Logan’s shoulder, “Logan?”

 

“Pull it out bud, now.”

 

Gritting his teeth Gambit pulled the blade clear of his Sentinel’s body.  Letting it fall to the ground, his arms went round the feral man, supporting him.

 

“Marcus,” Jean Luc asked, “is your honor satisfied?”

 

Marcus looked at the carnage, then at Logan. “He is not Assassin, he is an animal.”

 

“He is Wolverine.”  Jim’s voice cut across them.  It was then Jean Luc saw the fear in Marcus’s eyes.  He had never seen that before, he had no idea what Wolverine was, but the Assassin Guild leader did, and it caused sheer terror, he saw the way the other Assassins moved back, giving extra space.

 

His eyes fixed on Marcus, Logan lifted a blood stained hand and pushed back the black head band, his hand finding the pony tail, using that as a hold he pulled Gambit’s head down, and scented his Guide’s throat, for the first time in days reveling in his scent.

 

The yellow eyes narrowing as he detected that scent on some other people.  He looked up at Jean Luc, and scented him; it was his Guide’s scent, he growled aggressively, and then realized the scent, although similar, was different.  Family, no threat to his bond.

 

Logan suddenly threw his head back and roared Jim and Blair exchanged a look of satisfaction, the roar was ear splitting, but it was a direct challenge to anyone who tried to lay claim to Gambit, a challenge to the death for ownership of the Guide.

 

0-0-0-0

 

Henri whispered to his father, the five men that has beaten and assaulted Gambit were claiming right of combat.  They argued that since Gambit was under a death sentence, they had done nothing wrong.  Who were they to know the man was the lost son of their own Patriarch.  They would fight Gambit.  Seeing the exhausted young man they knew they could take him.

 

Jean Luc wasn’t happy, he didn’t want to risk his son, but he had to uphold the rules.

 

Blair stepped forward, “Sir, Sentinel and Guide are one, Gambit is Dark Guide, he is therefore of our family, as such, his place can be taken by another of his family” 

 

 “My name is James Ellison, Sentinel Prime of Cascade and the Northern Territories, through the Dark calling Gambit is my brother, and I therefore claim right of challenge.” 

 

Logan looked up at Jean Luc and grinned, blood stained his teeth, and the Patriarch didn’t want to think how he got that.  “I claim right of challenge as his Sentinel.”  He walked Gambit to the edge of the combat area and boosted him up.  Warren suddenly swooped down from the overhead beams, caught the Cajun, and swept him up before flaring and landing next to Blair, keeping his grip on the younger man’s waist to support him, he knew just how tired Gambit was.

 

Jim landed next to Logan; his hand went behind his back and came out with his sword.  Even as he landed Blair felt the change in him, it was the Primal Sentinel that now faced the Thieves.  The man was gone, what was left was the most primal of its kind, ready to administer the justice of the Sentinel clan.

 

The smaller Canadian looked at the Thieves, his voice a dull rumble, “ready to dance ladies?”  Then he charged.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Sanctuary Camp.

 

Blair finished putting up the tent and looked across the campsite at his fellow Guide.  Gambit, or rather Remy, was looking at it as if it was about to explode in his face.  With a soft chuckle Blair knelt down, “let me show you.”

 

Jim Ellison stood on the edge of the campsite and watched Logan smoking his cigar. “How you can smell anything round that is a mystery.”

 

“Easy when you know how.”  His lips twitched, “You’re not bad for a Ranger, it was good to fight by your side.”

 

“From Weapon X, I take that as a complement,” Jim put in with a smile.  He glanced back at Gambit, “I could not help but notice that you and Gambit,” he paused then added, “before we left LeBeau’s house, you bonded.” 

 

The Canadian didn’t answer, but his gaze softened when his eyes fell on his Guide.  As if acting to a cue, Gambit looked up, the connection between the two was humming. 

 

Jim could not help but notice the way that Blair was beaming.  He already knew about the bonding and heartily approved.

 

The two mutants had bonded the night of their fight with the Assassins and Thieves, now they had to establish the bond, and here under the stars away from outside interference was them best place for them to do that. 

 

Jim allowed his own throwback persona, the Dark Sentinel, to come forward, and when he looked at Blair he saw his Guide shudder under the heat of his look.  Walking back, he scooped up a blanket and sleeping bag, and in passing grabbed Blair by the scruff and dragged him into the dark; the need to bond was eating at him.

 

Logan poured out two big mugs of coffee.  He was bending down and handing one over to his Guide when he looked into his eyes, the black on red eyes flashed in the near dark, his emotions where his Guide was concerned had thrown him for a loop. 

 

He cocked his head to one side as he heard the Dark Pair bonding, Blair’s throaty groans and panting breath as he begged his Sentinel to take him, to bond with him.  Jim’s voice came to his ears, patient and understanding, but at the same time underlying it a need to bond.  Then with a roar his self-control was gone as he pounced on his Guide. Then the thud of boots and clothing, as the Dark Guide craved the skin-to-skin contact of the darkest bond.

 

The need to bond began to ride Logan.  It was like an itch he could not scratch.  Blair’s words, his reaction to his Sentinel’s touch of mind and body, was only increasing his own need.  But he knew that it was still too early for Gambit to give himself fully to the darkest bond.

 

The cry of a wolf startled Gambit, Logan pinched out the glowing tip of his cigar , and pushed it into his top pocket, then bending caught Gambit’s hand and pulled him into the tent.

 

“No need to be frightened Gambit, I am here.”  He was inordinately pleased as Gambit moved into his arms, his face pressed to the flannel shirt.  Cooing softly the Canadian used his touch to calm his Guide.  Gambit was from the city streets, the mountains were alien to him, but with Logan here he felt safe.  Reaching into the pocket of his rucksack, Logan pulled out a battered book, and placed it gently into Gambit’s hand, “There you go kid.”

 

He watched Gambit lightly trace the cover with his finger tips, and then hug it close.  Logan hugged him, resting his cheek against the auburn hair, “Knew you hadn’t run, when I saw the book, I had to come after you, couldn’t lose you now.”

 

He felt Gambit return the hug, and for the first time in more years than he could remember felt a wave of contentment run through him. The younger man yawned and closed his eyes, his hand still clutching the book, against Logan’s chest, as the older man pulled the sleeping bag round them.

 

It was early the next morning when Logan woke, this eyes flying open as he registered that Gambit was no longer by his side.

 

Looking across the tent he saw his Guide seated away from him, his arms wrapped round his knees, rocking slowly, as he shivered in the early morning chill

 

“Remy?”  Logan liked to use his new name, it suited him.

 

Gambit turned his red eyes, giving him perfect vision. He was surprised to see the concern on Logan’s face as the older man asked, “What’s wrong?”

 

“I can feel Blair, they are bonding, and...” he trailed off.  “Why don’t y’ touch Remy like dat ?”  His face fell, “Gambit understands.”  There was such sadness in his voice that Logan could not ignore it, “it’s because of what they did in the cell.”  Gambit’s eyes swam with tears, “dhey took Gambit, forced Mon.”

 

“Kid, we bonded at the LeBeau house, your family home,” Logan put in; trying to make his Guide understand, make him remember.

 

“But y’ not touch Gambit, not like dat, like Blair.”

 

Logan chuckled, so that was the problem.  Gambit was feeling left out, as a Guide he could feel Blair’s bonding, and needed to be connected.

 

“Gambit” he reached his hand out, after a heartbeat the Cajun accepted it and allowed himself to be pulled back into the sleeping bag.  The Cajun’s breath hitched as he felt through the empathic link Logan’s emotions, the need that was riding him.

 

This time Logan moved onto his side, his arm acting as a pillow for Gambit as with his other he began to run his hands over his body, small touches, that would ignite the bond.  A touch that reassured him, calmed him, a touch he could trust would never turn abusive.  With a sigh Gambit reached up and pulled Logan down, his long legs hooking round the smaller man as he tried to climb into his very soul, as Sentinel and Guide gave themselves over to the darkest bond.

 

The two pairs linking on a circuit of the power of the darkest bond, running like a current between them, increasing the needs until finally they bonded at exactly the same moment in time, then exhausted they slept late in the day.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

The Wolverine was hunting, his head moving back and forward trying to get the scent of his wayward guide, he paused, and his head snapped round his guides scent was on three of trees round him.

Gambit launched himself from the overhead branch, swinging round it like a gymnast on a bar, his feet hitting Logan hard in the back, pile driving the smaller man face first in the leaves.  Gambit was back on his feet, his bo-staff glowing and pressed to the back of his sentinel’s neck.

“Tag y’ it mon amie.”

Wolverine growled and then snarled at the sharp crack of energy against his neck

And Gambit disappeared into the wood again, with a bellow, Wolverine took after his wayward guide.

 

Blair laid back on the rock at the side of the river, and basked into the sun, putting a hand up to shield his eyes as a shadow loomed over him,

His lips pulling back into a smile as he heard the roar. “Who do you think will win this time.”

Jim shrugged “Does it matter Chief, Logan wins, or Gambit wins, they end up bonding, and everyone wins.”

 

He cocked his head as he opened his sense and took in his guide, “talking of bonding.”  Blair scrambled to his feet and began to back away as his Dark Sentinel stalked his prey he only got  six feet before he was caught and pulled down in the long grass, bonding under the afternoon sky..

 

When finally they packed their bags and came down from the mountains, it was two Dark Guides and two Dark Sentinels that left the sanctuary, their bonds in perfect harmony with each other.

 

0-0-0-0-0

 

Mission Firefly.

 

Scott Summers was in the Blackbird, watching the car thundering across the bridge, correction, the partly constructed bridge.  He could not believe what he was hearing on the radio traffic between Warren and Logan; the man could not be seriously considering what he thought he was hearing.

 

The plan was crazy, but Dr. Essex’s men were in close pursuit.  To make the leap the car had to be going 125 miles an hour, or so Warren had said when he had looked up from the computer screen, checking the proposed trajectory of the car and the Blackbird closing speed.

 

“Wolverine, this is Cyclops, what the hell are you doing?”

 

“One hundred and frigging twenty five I hope.”  At that he floored the accelerator and the car powered across the gap and into the cargo hold of the Blackbird.  It flipped over onto its roof and continued in a shower of sparks until it came to a halt, the wheels still spinning.

 

 Logan turned his head to look at his Guide. Gambit was hanging from his seat belt, one hand braced against the roof of the car. “Told you we would catch the plane, darling,” Logan drawled as he used his claws to cut through his own safety belt, then a slash and a kick and the door fell away.

 

Crawling out of the vehicle, he cut Gambit free of the belt, reaching in he dragged his Guide out of the mangled wreck. The Cajun still holding the briefcase they had just stolen.

 

Making a great play of brushing down his black duster and then straightening it, he looked Logan up and down. 

 

“Next time homme, y’ let Gambit do de drivin, oui y’ parkin stinks.”

 

He effortlessly ducked the hand that went to clip the back of his head, and with a laugh he was heading out of the cargo bay.

 

The end.


End file.
